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Her beautiful face and figure were displayed to the greatest 
possible advantage. Page 44. 




T h e 



A P anorama of Modern Society 


BY 

/ 

JOSEPHINE ZEMAN 





G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 

NEW YORK 


THL LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Received 

m 27 1903 

Copyright Entry 
CLASS XXc. No. 
COPY B. 



COPYRIGHT 
jgo3y BY 

JOSEPHINE ZEMAN 

ALL RIGHTS 
RESERVED 


ENTERED AT 
STATIONERS^ HALL 


ISSUED MAY, igoj 


Preface 


1 


W givi/ng this book to the public a few words 
\ seem called for, in view of the apparent 
briefness, not to say abruptness with which 
some of its scenes and characters are brought to a 
close. In explanation I desire to say that the story 
is based upon facts. Truth is stranger than fic- 
tion, and my aim has been to present things as they 
often happen in life rather than attempt a work 
of art through the imagination. I have dealt with 
incidents and occurrences that have come under my 
observation, in as short, concise and realistic a man- 
ner as possible. Where facts are in plenty fiction 
seems superfluous. I have tried to avoid all excess 
of baggage and sharply draw the line where realism 
ceases and fiction begins. 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 


/. 

At the Club .... 

7 

IL 

Countess Ivanovitch . 

33 

IIL 

Old Foes ..... 

. 68 

IV. 

The Worm that Turned 

86 

V. 

False but Faithful 

. ii8 

VL 

A Glimpse of Paradise 

. 145 

VIL 

Herbert Stanley 

• 155 

VIII. 

A Victim of Another* s Crime 

. 181 

IX. 

The Horsey Girl 

. 202 

X. 

Airs Well that Ends Well . 

• 232 



T^he s 'T*riumph 


CHAPTER I 


AT THE CLUB 


S T was a cold night in December. All day 
long New York had been in the throes 
of a fierce blizzard, which, having first 
wreaked havoc in Nebraska and other Western 
towns, had come East, as if to remind us of the 
frigid experience we had with one of its relatives 
in 1888. 

The sun, after a brief smile upon the city, had 
hidden his face in disgust behind a leaden sky. 
Night came, and with it another fall in the tem- 
perature; causing those blessed with any sort of a 
home to cheerfully stick to it. It was too cold for 
more snow, and the little that had fallen the day 
before had frozen almost immediately, forming a 


8 The Victim's Triumph 

hard, icy crust which made walking difficult, and 
caused a crunching sound ’neath foot or wheel. A 
full moon beamed brightly down upon the scene. 

Alongside the curb on upper Fifth Avenue 
stood, sphinx-like, a solitary cab, probably await- 
ing some venturesome youth whose ardent spirit 
even this arctic night had been unable to congeal. 
The driver sat motionless, completely buried in 
the folds of a voluminous fur overcoat, from which 
protruded, chimney-like, his stovepipe hat. 

The horse, poor beast, stood shivering in the 
cold, unprotected save by a thin blanket, which 
might just as well have been left off, for all the 
good it did. Its thoughts — for horses have 
thoughts — could have been in nowise eulogistic of 
the human family. The dejected look in the ani- 
mal’s eyes, the relaxed lower jaw, and ill-fed, un- 
groomed appearance in general, bore mute evidence 
of a life of ceaseless labor, hardship and suffering, 
endured solely to fill the pockets of a heartless 
master; for, though we may not realize it, the 
inner life, the hopes and fears of our dumb friends, 
are readily seen in their actions, appearance and 


The Victim's Triumph 9 

behavior. Thus the poor animal, as it stood shiv- 
ering in the cold, plainly expressed utter resigna^ 
tion to an inevitable fate: viz., a few years more 
of hardship, old age, or, perhaps, a broken limb 
at the hands of some careless motorman; a morbid 
crowd, a policeman’s bullet, and then — oblivion. 

In sharp contrast with this dismal scene, the 
upper windows in one of the exclusive bachelor 
clubs near by sent forth a flood of light, which 
reflected in a thousand multicolored sparks upon 
the snow-covered street below, showing that sleep 
was still a stranger to these devotees of single 
blessedness ; who, perhaps, had been unable to tear 
themselves away from the fascinations of the fra- 
grant Havana, the wine, or the game. 

In the sumptuous smoking-room within, three 
men in evening dress were gaily chatting near a 
huge fireplace of artistic design, wherein a bright 
fire was burning. They had evidently spent the 
earlier part of the night at the play, from whence 
they had sojourned uptown to the club, to smoke, 
drink and talk. They were chums, and had known 
each other for a number of years. 


10 The Victim's Triumph 

Lord Brighton, the elder of the three, was a man 
of about forty-five, but looked somewhat younger. 
In appearance and manners he was a typical Eng- 
lishman, with a ruddy complexion, large, regular 
features, and of heavy build. He was a man who 
might have passed unnoticed but for the color of 
his hair, which was of that indescribable hue some- 
times seen on actresses who use Peroxide ” one 
season, to obtain the regulation shade of bright 
yellow, and sage tea the next, to turn it into the 
Leslie-Carter tint. As to character. Lord Brigh- 
ton was one of those men who firmly believe that 
their advent marked an epoch in the world’s history, 
and that they are the storm-centre about which the 
universe revolves. He was immodestly proud of 
his large wealth and comparatively new title, and 
belonged to that type known in France as Les 
nouveaux riches. Had Lord Brighton been a 
poor man, he would have been dubbed “ coarse ” ; 
as it was he was termed eccentric.” Like the 
majority of his compatriots, he had hobbies; not 
lawn tennis, golf, or the like; far from it. His 
pet hobby was a supreme contempt for woman, 


The Victim's Triumph 11 

and the feminine sex in general; which contempt 
amounted almost to a mania. Indeed so bitter did 
he become in his denunciation of the fair sex at 
times, that it caused his friends to suspect, that 
at some period of his life, he had been the dupe 
of some especially clever woman, which suspicion 
was greatly strengthened by the vehemence with 
which he was wont to assert that no woman could 
ever impress him. Such, in brief, was Lord Oliver 
Brighton, of London, England, who now leisurely 
reclined in an easy chair, extracting large volumes 
of smoke from the business end of a perfecto, and 
then sending it curling up against the hand-painted 
plafond of the smoking-room. 

A different man altogether was Bob Armstrong, 
a retired banker and broker. Mr. Armstrong or 

Bob,” as he was familiarly known to his friends, 
was strictly a self-made man whose every movement 
bespoke culture and refinement. He was tall, well 
made, about thirty-five years of age and of dis- 
tinguished appearance. His eyes were large and 
black, and formed a most engaging contrast to his 
silver-gray hair and mustache. His features 


12 The Victim's Triumph 

though aquiline were distinctly of American type; 
they denoted great kindliness, but likewise courage, 
intellect and firmness of decision; indeed, these 
latter were the qualities that had in years past made 
the name Armstrong ” a factor in Wall Street. 
Mr. Armstrong’s life had been an eventful one. 
At the age of thirty he had married a lady of great 
beauty and intellect, to whom he was profoundly 
attached, but whom he lost by death after three 
years of unalloyed happiness. Since then. Bob 
had been a confirmed bachelor, spending all of his 
leisure time either travelling or at the club. He 
was now seated between his friends, absent-mind- 
edly tearing an old envelope into small pieces, 
which he rolled into miniature balls and cast into 
the fire, while he attentively watched the eager 
flames lick up the fresh material. There was a 
sad, ruminating expression on his handsome face, 
as though this evening reminded him of bygone 
happy days at his own fireside. 

The remaining member of the trio was Chauncey 
Lament, the son of a wealthy merchant, and a typi- 
cal gilded youth, whose chief occupation in life 


The Victim's Triumph 13 

seemed to centre in the strenuous effort he made 
to spend his father’s money faster than the latter 
could earn it; an occupation in which he appeared 
to succeed fairly well. But though Chauncey was 
a gay young man, fond of life in all its phases, 
a devotee of sports in general, with a decided pen- 
chant for the stage and its femininity, he was not 
a bad boy at heart, and was universally popular. 

Chauncey was tall, rather above the ordinary 
height, and, apparently, admirably proportioned. 
He was fair-haired, with features clean cut and 
rather fine of finish; their habitual expression sug- 
gested a capacity for ready wit. His light mus- 
tache flourished upward, as if blown that way by 
the breath of a constant smile. That mustache 
was to him a source of great pride and much pre- 
occupation, upon which he spent more time and 
care than the average mother bestows upon her 
first born. Taken altogether there was something 
benevolent and picturesque in his physiognomy. 
In this respect his face was singular. It was not 
at all serious and yet it inspired the liveliest con- 
fidence. Just now he was puffing away on a cigar- 


14 The Victim's Triumph 

ette, while glancing over the programme of the 
evening’s performance, which he had brought from 
the theatre, and endeavoring to find some familiar 
name among the artists named thereon. Throw- 
ing away the programme he suddenly exclaimed: 

Well, gentlemen, what’s your verdict of the 
play.f^ ” 

Capital ! ” observed Bob Armstrong. 

Can’t say I like it, dontcherknow ! ” ejaculated 
Lord Brighton, with a puff on his cigar. 

“ Oh, I don’t see why,” resumed Bob, with a 
shrug of his shoulders. I think the play is all 
right, and the work of the star extremely clever. 
She is undoubtedly a good actress and a beautiful 
woman.” 

You bet ! ” put in Chauncey enthusiastically. 

Clever.? ” repeated Lord Brighton with a cyni- 
cal smile. ’Pon my word. Bob, I can’t see, dont- 
cherknow, how you can fancy the work and looks 
of that blonde person in black velvet. By Jove! 
it couldn’t happen in England, dontcherknow ! 
Her gowns were positively scandalous. I say, 
positively scandalous ! ” 


The Victim's Triumph 15 

Can’t see what objection you have to the lady’s 
gowns,” animatedly rejoined Bob. She dresses 
in accordance with the requirements of the part 
she portrays, which is that of an adventuress, and, 
certainly, not immodestly so. At any rate, no 
more so than do the ladies of our own set at their 
dinners and balls. As to the play, it is strictly a 
modern problem-play, hence quite realistic.” 

Well, Bob, you don’t know actresses as I know 
them,” quickly replied Lord Brighton, determined 
to force his opinion upon his friend. 

Cut it ! ” dryly observed Chauncey. 

But — aw — I say,” obstinately continued Lord 
Brighton, I don’t care to see any woman upon 
the stage; ’pon my word I don’t! ’Tisn’t her 
place, you see! Women ought to stay at home, 
where they belong, and attend to the house and the 
nursery.” 

Oh, Lord! when they do I want to be dead,^^ 
interrupted Chauncey with mock earnestness. 

Yes,” broke in Bob, and spend their sweet 
young lives making biscuits and tea for beef -eating 
Englishmen like yourself! Oh, come, come, old 


16 The Victim's Triumph 

man! Why don’t you be honest, and say that 
you hate all women, and look upon them as a neces- 
sary evil at best. Think what you please, Brigh- 
ton, but remember that there are surely some good 
women upon the stage, as there are in every walk 
of life. Besides, there is something in this par- 
ticular woman’s face and bearing that commands 
respect. You know I have been through the mill, 
and am not the kind of a man to be taken in by 
the face of every pretty woman I meet, even though 
she be an actress ; but when I gazed upon that sad 
face, especially during the pathetic scenes, I could 
have wagered my soul’s salvation that, though 
young and beautiful, she has passed through a 
world of sorrow and despair.” 

“ Bravo, Bob ! shake hands, old man ! I couldn’t 
have said it better in a thousand years ! ” heartily 
exclaimed Chauncey, grasping his friend’s hands. 

You’ve hit the nail on the head 1 ” 

’Pon my word, boys, you have my sympathy, 
dontcherknow, and if I didn’t know you both as 
sensible fellows, I should say that you are both 
^ hard hit.’ But, I say again, no woman’s face will 


The Victim's Triumph 17 

ever deceive me. It can’t be done! They are 
false, one and all, and only do the angel act — 
when they want something. All women are bom 
actresses, and, if I do say so myself, the woman 
who can fool Lord Brighton does not live.” 

Bob merely shrugged his shoulders, knowing 
from experience that argument was a useless ex- 
penditure of energy against this man’s monumental 
British obstinacy. 

Can’t be fooled, eh.?^ ” repeated Chauncey, with 
a knowing wink at Bob. Well, may be so, old 
man; but I know a lady that would play ping 
pong with your heart inside of thirty minutes, and 
without an effort.” 

“ Who is she.^ What is she like? ” queried Lord 
Brighton with lazy incredulity, yet interested de- 
spite himself. 

Like nothing you ever saw ! ” 

“ I am sure I am much obliged, dontcherknow.” 

She is the Countess Ivanovitch, who is univers- 
ally considered the most beautiful and fascinating 
creature that ever happened in New York City,” 
replied Chauncey. 

2 


18 The Victivfis Triumph 

Do you know her? ” queried Bob. 

“ Yes, I met her at Mrs. Gardner’s dinner, and 
there wasn’t a man in the crowd — myself included 
— who wouldn’t have left his happy home or robbed 
a bank for this ravishing creature.” 

Scandalous, positively scandalous, ’pon my 
word,” soliloquized Lord Brighton. “ But I say, 
Chauncey, just to show you, dear boy, that she’ll 
never impress me, arrange an introduction, dont- 
cherknow, and then watch me.” 

Just so ! ” replied Chauncey. “ I’ll steer you 
up against her brother, who’s a jolly good fellow. 
You’ll meet him, he’ll introduce you to her, and 
there you are.” 

Oh, she’s got a brother, has she ? ” inquired 
Lord Brighton. 

Indeed she has,” affirmed Chauncey. And 
his word is law with her; so if you wish to reach 
the Countess it will have to be done via the brother. 
But I’ll attend to that part of it; besides, we are 
all invited to the Pennybaker ball next week and so 
is the Countess ; then I will see that both you and 
Bob are introduced.” 


The Victim's Triumph 19 

Bj the way, Chauncey,” here interrupted Bob, 
“ what did you mean a while ago by the remark 
that ^ I had hit the nail on the head ’ when I spoke 
of the actress we saw on the stage to-night? ” 

I meant,” replied Chauncey, suddenly losing 
his gay demeanor, that you were quite right 
when you said you had discerned real sorrow and 
sadness in her face.” 

How so ? ” eagerly queried Bob. 

Why, because,” continued Chauncey, “ that 
young girl has had sorrows that would have killed 
an ordinary woman. I’ll tell you her story, as it 
was told me by one of my newspaper friends who 
knew her well, if you care to hear it.” 

‘‘ I certainly do,” replied Bob Armstrong.” 

Go ahead,” yawned Lord Brighton, bored at 
having to listen to the story of a woman’s life. 

But, I say, let’s have some cocktails and some 
cigars ; ” and suiting the action to the word he 
summoned the waiter and gave his order. 

The liquor was brought and disposed of, fresh 
cigars were lighted, a new supply of fuel added to 
the fire, and soon the trio was once more comfort- 


20 The Victim's Triumph 

ably ensconced in their easy chairs, ready to listen 
to Chauncey’s story. 

‘‘ About ten years ago,” began the latter, “ there 
was among the regular staff of artists at the Im- 
perial Opera House at Berhn, a singer, who, by 
reason of his good looks, fine physique and phenom- 
enal voice, was a popular favorite, especially among 
the ladies; for it is a strange fact that women 
will idolize actors — ^just because they are actors. 
In this case the man in question had the great 
advantage of being not only a great artist as well 
as fine looking, but likewise a man of superior in- 
tellect and good education. ’Twas no wonder, 
therefore, that he was the idol of all the ladies, 
which so affected this great singer that it required 
an extra size hat to fit him. One day, however, 
he met among the society girls, who raved about 
him, bought his photographs and spent their pin- 
money to send him flowers, a girl of quite a 
different stamp. She was young, beautiful, edu- 
cated and well bred. And though it seems sacri- 
legious to state that an actor can form, temporarily 
even, a real affection for any one woman, the un- 


The Victim's Triumph 21 

expected happened in this case, for this artist was 
so greatly impressed with the young woman’s 
charms that during a moment of absent-minded- 
ness he married her. In doing so, the young 
woman had — on his advice — overlooked the insig- 
nificant formality of asking parental consent. 
Thus her secret marriage became a pink tea when 
compared to the stupendous undertaking of ac- 
quainting papa and mamma with the facts. Yet, 
it had to be done, for though great singers live, 
professionally speaking, upon ‘ airs,’ their material 
subsistence require cold cash. At any rate, this 
artist, despite his rather large salary, felt finan- 
cially too small to take care of both himself and 
his wife, so he confidentially advised her to confess 
the awful truth to her parents. Like the dutiful 
wife she was, she obeyed, and conveyed the intelli- 
gence of her secret marriage unto her parents. 
At first the latter were speechless with amazement 
at the revelation. When they did find words to 
express their thoughts they were totally unfit for 
publication. What they did insist upon, however, 
was that their home was not big enough to hold 


22 The Victim's Triumph 

both themselves and the wife of an opera singer. 
What did it matter that the sweet little wife of a 
few weeks happened to be their only daughter, and 
that she had married her husband because she loved 
him? Was it not far easier to put the daughter 
out of the house than to face social ostracism by 
telling the Privy-Supreme-Court-Counsellor So 
and So, or tell the wife of the Imperial Ex-Chief- 
Chamberlain This and That, that their only 
daughter had married a man of melodies? Hence, 
within two weeks more, the erstwhile only daughter 
of wealthy parents found herself a stranger to her 
former home. Her husband at first did his best 
to take care of her, and, for a time, succeeded quite 
well; but like most artists known to fame, he soon 
tired of the obligations if not of the bonds that 
curtailed his personal expenditures. His behavior 
towards his wife began to show punctures here and 
there, and when, shortly afterwards, he was offered 
a good engagement as leading tenor in this coun- 
try, at nearly triple the salary he drew in Ger- 
many, he quickly packed his grip, gave his dear, 
confiding little wife some money, and more advice. 


The Victim's Triumph 23 

promised to write to her early and often, and gaily 
sailed away to this country. Out of sight out of 
mind! At home, alone, abandoned and forsaken 
by all, the poor little woman learned then the bitter 
truth that the world has no pity for the unfor- 
tunate. To add to her sorrows, she approached 
that critical period in a woman’s life where she 
fulfills the noblest duty of her destiny — mother- 
hood. Alas! the poor little wife, whose heart — 
despite her husband’s perfidy — could not despise 
the man to whom she had given all that life holds 
dear to a woman, gathered together what she had 
left of worldly possessions, sold some trinkets, 
which she had vowed never to part with, and with 
the proceeds — barely sufficient to pay for her pas- 
sage — came to New York, hoping to find her faith- 
less husband. Upon inquiry she learned that he 
was en route, at the head of a company, and at that 
time in Pennsylvania. She likewise learned that 
another had, long since, supplanted her in his af- 
fections, and that the money he should have de- 
voted to her support he spent upon this new fancy. 
But though her heart was breaking, and her bodily 


24 The Victim's Triumph 

sufferings acute, her loyal soul never wavered, and 
she resolved to go to her husband and bring him 
to his senses by imparting the sweet secret to him. 
Towards the latter part of May, 1889, she left 
New York, using her remaining funds for a ticket 
to Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where her husband 
was to appear the following day. Upon reaching 
there she learned that his company was due late 
that night. Can you fancy the thoughts that 
filled this poor woman’s heart Can you picture 
her many conflicting emotions Was she not there 
alone — penniless in a strange country Would 
he be man enough to do his duty by her.^^ Or 
would he spurn her — and crush out the little spark 
of hope that still remained in her bosom 

In due time her husband’s company arrived. 
With a heavy heart and trembling hands the poor 
^mung wife dispatched a messenger to the theatre, 
informing him of her arrival, and asking him to 
come to her. An answer came, and in her misery 
she fervently prayed to Him who sees all that it 
might bring her happiness. It contained but a 
few laconic words, scribbled in haste, and read: 


The Victim's Triumph 25 

‘ Will be there after the performance.’ No sig- 
nature was appended; still, it was his handwriting, 
and her heart leaped with joy. With feverish 
emotion she awaited his coming. At 11.30 she 
heard his heavy step in the hall of the inexpensive 
hotel where she was staying. Her heart bounded. 
The door was flung open, and — she lay upon his 
breast. Faithless and fickle though he was, he 
could not resist the poor woman’s rapturous joy — 
despite his perfidy — on seeing him again. Perhaps 
it was that ‘ silent voice,’ which at that moment spoke 
in thunderous tones within him ; perhaps it was the 
hand of fate that caused him to feel the pangs of 
remorse for his ill-treatment of her. Who knows 
And she — the poor little woman — never once re- 
proached him with his misconduct, or complained 
of the many hardships she had endured. She knew 
but one thing — she loved him, and he was with 
her — as she blushingly whispered her secret into 
his ear. Her sublime faith, after months of misery 
and neglect at his hands, and the fact that she had 
come thousands of miles to be with him during the 
ordeal she was about to face, touched even his cold 


26 The VictMs Triumph 

heart, now filled with the image of another. He 
gently kissed her upturned face, smoothed her fev- 
erish brow and spoke words of encouragement. But 
the worry and excitement of the last few days, to- 
gether with the privations she had suffered and the 
suspense of the evening’s vigil for his coming, had 
been too much for her delicate health. She was 
taken violently ill, and a doctor was summoned. For 
several days after the babe was born the poor 
woman lay unconscious and at the point of death. 
When she finally recovered consciousness on the 
fourth day her mind had temporarily given way 
under the strain. During all that week her hus- 
band had to appear nightly with smiling face, 
while she struggled between life and death among 
strangers. To add to his troubles. Dame Rumor, in 
some mysterious way, had spread the story of his 
infidelity and his wife’s arrival. The tale gained 
in virulence as it was passed on. Like the tiny 
snowball that grows in volume as it rolls down the 
hill, and finally reaches the valley an avalanche 
dealing death and destruction, so the story of this 
man’s infamy spread and increased, causing great 


The Victim's Triumph 27 

public indignation, until he, the erstwhile matinee 
idol of silly women, found himself hissed at every 
appearance and openly insulted. But though his 
misdeeds nearly shipwrecked him professionally, the 
incident served one good purpose. It brought him 
to his senses, and he vowed to henceforth be a bet- 
ter man. Was it fear, was it pity, or was it, per- 
haps, the little white bundle of humanity quietly 
sleeping in the small crib in the dingy room of the 
hotel It was never known. For who can fathom 
the ways of inscrutable fate ? Fate, which as surely 
as there is a sun in heaven, sooner or later metes out 
just punishment to all transgressors alike. His 
repentance, however, came too late, for in the ter- 
rible disaster which, on the morning of May 31, 
1889, almost swept the city of Johnstown off the 
face of the earth, the artist, who at the time was 
rehearsing at the theatre, was one of the victims; 
whereas both mother and child in some miraculous 
way escaped destruction. Happily for the poor 
woman, her mind at that time was benighted, else 
the shock of this new misfortune would have killed 
her. Several days la.ter, when the waters began 


28 The Victwis Triumph 

to subside, her husband’s terribly mangled body 
was found. Kind souls took pity on the unfor- 
tunate mother and babe and transferred them to 
more congenial surroundings, where, after many 
months of suffering, she finally recovered health 
and reason. When the tragic fate of her husband 
was told her it proved a terrible blow. Had it not 
been for the blue-eyed little cherub — whose baby- 
lips began to lisp the word ^ mamma,’ that sound 
which falls like heavenly music on a woman’s ear — 
who knows but she, too, would have sought oblivion 
for her sorrows in death. With nothing left in 
the world to claim as her own, save her girl babe, 
she bestowed upon it all the affections of her sym- 
pathetic heart, and as time wore on she had the 
indescribable pleasure of seeing the little one grow- 
ing up into a beautiful girl. Then came a new 
sorrow. The little money kind friends had saved 
for her from the sale of her husband’s jewelry, to- 
gether with some life insurance she had received, 
was about exhausted, and she was confronted by 
the problem of how to subsist. She had no train- 
ing in the ways and means of earning a livelihood ; 


The Victirri's Triumph 29 

her only hope lay in the fine education she had 
received, so she daily scanned the papers in quest 
of a position as governess. But no one wanted a 
woman with a child, no matter what her qualifica- 
tions. True, some positions were offered her by 
so-called bachelors, but in nearly every instance she 
found that these ‘ ads.’ were misleading, and their 
motives doubtful. One day she noticed an adver- 
tisement requiring a handsome young woman to 
pose for a well-known artist. In her desperation 
she confided her little girl to the care of a neighbor 
and applied for the position. She was young and 
beautiful; and her face had that soft, melancholy 
expression which misery and heartache seldom fail 
to impart to a woman’s countenance. It was just 
what the artist wanted, and, to her delight, she was 
engaged at a fair salary. He was a good man, 
who found inspiration in the face of this well-bred, 
handsome model, so vastly different from her aver- 
age colleague. With true maternal pride she told 
him one day of her sweet babe-girl. He asked her 
to bring the child to the studio and let him see 
her. She did so. The sight of mother and child. 


30 The Victim's Triumph 

both pathetically beautiful in their loneliness, in- 
stantly caught the artist’s eye and inspired him as 
a fine subject for a great painting. He asked her 
to pose with her child, and she consented. For two 
months he worked, and finally produced the famous 
painting entitled ^ Alone in the World.’ It repre- 
sented a mother and child dressed in tatters, stand- 
ing in a deserted doorway, while the snow is coming 
down in heavy flakes. The canvas proved a suc- 
cess; it was exhibited here and abroad, where it 
finally sold for a large sum. It made the artist 
famous, and in the generosity of his heart he per- 
suaded his model to accept a financial present as a 
mark of his esteem and appreciation. A theatrical 
manager who had greatly admired the painting, 
prevailed upon the artist to reveal the identity of 
the model; this the artist finally did. The man- 
ager at once made her an offer to play an emotional 
part in a great realistic drama, at a large salary. 
She gladly accepted. Though new to the stage and 
by no means an actress, her great beauty, her mag- 
netic presence and, above all, the genuine pathos 
in her sweet face, made an instantaneous success. 


The Victim's Triumph 31 

To-day she is famous, as we all know, and her little 
girl bids fair to follow in her mother’s footsteps.” 

At that moment a loud snort interrupted 
Chauncey’s story, and turning around he and 
Bob beheld Lord Brighton sound asleep ; for, true 
to his aversion for women and everything concern- 
ing them, Chauncey’s tale, together with the 
heat of the room, had made him sleepy. Seizing 
a seltzer-water bottle. Bob gently sprayed the sleep- 
ing lord’s face for a moment. With a start the 
latter awoke. By Jove, gentlemen, you must 
excuse me, dontcherknow ! My eyes were paining 
me a bit, so I closed them for repairs; but I heard 
every word you said, Chauncey, and I heartily coin- 
cide with both of you in your opinion regarding 
the coal strike. The conduct of these mine owners 
is positively scandalous — positively scandalous.” 

A loud laugh from both Chauncey and Bob in- 
terrupted him. 

Oh, yes, you heard every word I said ! Of 
course you did,” added Chauncey with a wink at 
Bob. Oh, how your eyes must have pained you ! 
By the way, my lord, what was that explosion we 


32 The Victim's Triumph 

heard a while ago ? Sounded like a trumpet. Ah, 
come, come, my lord, you’ve had a charming little 
nap.” 

Yes,” added Bob, and I think we’ll all fol- 
low suit by retiring at once, unless we want to eat 
breakfast here. So let’s be off.” 

Lord Brighton, still half asleep, and looking 
somewhat sheepish at having been caught red- 
handed, nodded assent, and the three men — after 
promising to meet the following week at the Penny- 
baker ball — sought their respective hotels and re- 
tired. 


CHAPTER II 


COUNTESS IVANOVITCH 

WEEK later and the winter season is in 
full blast. The fiery enthusiasts, bet- 
ter known as the smart set, rush with 
restless feverishness to the luncheons, tea-parties, 
dinners and balls that form the order of the day, 
and in their frantic zeal painfully remind one at 
times of the diminutive size of the madhouse and 
the limited space to shelter the overflow. 

The palatial Pennybaker mansion, on one of the 
most aristocratic thoroughfares, near upper Fifth 
Avenue, is a maze of brilliancy and splendor. The 
driveways leading to the various entrances are lined 
with magnificent palms, shrubberies and tropical 
flowers. The vestibules, salons and banquet hall 
are likewise garnished with rare and expensive floral 
decorations. From the gallery above, the ball- 
room presents a picture that is a veritable triumph 
of decorative art. The caterer has accomplished 
3 




34 The Victim's Triumph 

marvels with which to tickle the artistocratic palates 
of the many guests invited; for to-day the beauti- 
ful young daughter of Philip Penny baker, multi- 
millionaire and banker, will make her dehut into 
society — society, wherein we all form a link, wherein 
we all have duties to perform and rights to claim, 
and which is governed by the sovereign will of the 
majority. Miss Pennybaker has been reared with 
the greatest care ; she has had every advantage that 
money can buy or influence provide. Her educa- 
tion was obtained at a private institution of learn- 
ing, whose methods were radically different from 
some of the degenerate tendencies so frequently 
met with nowadays at the fashionable seminaries 
and young ladies’ institutes for the rich, where girls 
learn everything they shouldn’t know and very 
little they ought to know. In the case of Miss 
Pennybaker, no pains had been spared to make her 
a representative type of lofty American woman- 
hood. Thus the Moloch of society — poor, worn- 
out, half-grazed, satiated society — this night was 
looking forward with eager interest to the delivery 
unto its arms of a fresh new flower, whose tender 


The Victim's Triumph 35 

petals had as yet never been touched by the sirocco 
of social corruption, who knew naught of the social 
evils, amid which morality struggles with immoral- 
ity, honesty with dishonesty, perfidy with upright- 
ness, truthfulness with intrigue. Already specu- 
lations were rife among the several social leaders 
as to which one of them would be permitted to take 
the tender flower under her wing, protectorate or 
chaperonage; for Miss Pennybaker’s mother had 
died years ago. Again calculations were afloat as 
to whom she might marry — or whether one of the 
rich social roues might not carry off the prize, and, 
incidentally, a slice of the Pennybaker millions. 
These were some of the thoughts fermenting be- 
hind the expensive bodices of the aristocratic guests 
who now began rolling up to the Pennybaker man- 
sion, where they were met by Miss Hodge, who for 
years had discharged the honors of the house at the 
banker’s home in the capacity of manager, and who 
was universally esteemed by the society leaders for 
her manifold abilities as an entertainer, originator 
of new diversions and gracious hostess. At nine 
o’clock the guests had nearly all arrived. Among 


36 The Victim's Triumph 

them were our friends. Lord Brighton, Bob Arm- 
strong and Chauncey Lamont; all three of whom 
were ever welcome guests at all social functions, or 
wherever mammas with marriageable daughters fre- 
quented. At this hour the banquet hall was a 
scene of splendor. The superb toilets of the women 
presented an ever-changing panorama of color- 
harmony, while from an adjoining chamber a noted 
orchestra, secured for the occasion, dispensed classic 
music. 

Bob and Chauncey, who were exceedingly popu- 
lar with both men and women of their set, soon 
were surrounded by many friends, while Lord 
Brighton, circumnavigating the younger crowd of 
men, had quickly located acquaintances more suit- 
able to his peculiar English tastes. He was soon 
conversing with an old London chum near the door 
of the banquet hall. At that same moment there 
was a commotion at the entrance; the door was 
flung open and the usher announced, The Coun- 
tess Ivanovitch, Baron Nicholas Ivanovitch.” 

Instantly there was a hush among the assembled 
guests, for the Countess and her brother were guests 


The Victim's Triumph 37 

of honor at the mansion that night; their coming 
had been looked forward to with great interest, 
for rumor told how they had been lionized at all 
the great capitals of Europe and likewise in this 
country. This much is certain, when the Countess 
upon entering the ball-room paused for a fraction 
of a moment on the threshold, there arose a murmur 
of admiration, and many a handsome woman among 
this brilliant throng turned just a suspicion paler 
with silent but uncontrollable envy. As the Coun- 
tess, attended by her distinguished looking brother, 
slowly advanced, she was met half way, and with 
every mark of distinction, by the hostess. Never- 
theless, while it was evident that Countess Ivano- 
vitch was quite accustomed to the marked homage 
paid her, it was equally plain that the admiration 
accompanying it was by no means wholly due to 
her exalted social position, but rather to her extraor- 
dinarily charming personality. 

Countess Ivanovitch was a young woman who 
must attract attention anywhere and under all cir- 
cumstances by reason of her beauty. She was about 
five feet six inches tall, and decidedly patrician in 


38 The Victim's Triumph 

appearance. Her walk had that elasticity and 
fawn-like softness of step that distinguishes the 
children of the forest and is so unusual among lat- 
ter-day society. Her age might range from twenty- 
one to twenty-three, and her form was of Junoesque 
proportions. Her costume, of exquisite simplicity, 
consisted of a glove-tight-fitting princess gown, 
made of the finest black silk-velvet and cut rather 
low. Trimmings there were none except a hand- 
painted garland of American beauties ; these, gradu- 
ally increasing in size, encircled the waist, and 
crossing in front ran down to the hem of the skirt, 
where they formed a unique and ultra-artistic 
border. A real American beauty rose adorned 
her abundant light-blonde hair, the heavy braids 
of which were most becomingly arranged upon the 
apex of her charming head, forming a striking con- 
trast with her black gown. As to her face, it is 
difficult to make words do justice to its beauty. 
Her brow was lofty and smooth, and just high 
enough to appear intellectual. Her eyebrows, in 
charming contrast with her hair, were black, finely 
drawn and arched beyond the power of brush or 


The Victim's Triumph 39 

pen to portray — eyebrows which, if lovers wrote 
sonnets to those of their lady-loves, might have in- 
spired the making of much verse. 

Her eyes were limpid, large, of a brown so deep 
as to seem almost black, and were shaded by long, 
silky lashes. They were eyes, once seen, were never 
forgotten — lustrous, wonderful eyes ! Her nose 
was of that rare Roman type seen in antique statu- 
ary and famous paintings, but seldom in life. Her 
mouth was lovely, and in strict accordance with the 
canons of true art. When she smiled, and its pretty 
corners curved upward, displaying a double row 
of pearly teeth, it was irresistibly inviting. Her 
lips were deep red and ever moist — a perpetual sug- 
gestion of a lingering kiss. 

The contour of her face was oval, slightly taper- 
ing down to an exquisitely chiseled chin that was 
in exact proportion, with just a suspicion of firm- 
ness. The cheeks rounded without disturbing the 
oval lines, and were the abode of a pair of dimples 
that grew deeper as she laughed and lent to her face 
a bewitching and evanescent charm. The white- 
ness of her brow was enhanced by cheeks which sug- 


40 The Victim's Triumph 

gested the warm glow of the sunset with the deli- 
cacy of the rose. Her neck, a pillar of snowy 
whiteness, supported a well poised head, wliich 
she carried with regal grace. Her finely-moulded 
bust was sufficiently though not immodestly dis- 
played by her low corsage — to conceal this potent 
charm of her piquant personality would have been 
a crime. Her perfectly fitted gown was fastened 
over the shoulders — merely as a matter of form — 
by a narrow velvet ribbon, which emphasized the 
dazzling whiteness of her lovely, dimpled shoulders 
and arms, which were partly covered with well- 
fitting white gloves, that reached above the elbows. 

But the Countess’s all-conquering charm lay in 
her eyes. There was a warm and melting look in 
these big brown eyes that held you there as long 
as you were wanted. There was no shyness in those 
orbs, but simply a frank confidence that went 
straight to your heart. Her conversation, with- 
out laying claim to great brilliancy, was of that 
sweet human quality that charms and delights. 
She possessed to a remarkable degree the power to 
convey to those with whom she spoke the belief 


The Victim s Triumph 41 

that their interests were her own to the exclusion 
of all else. It is but simple truth to state that few 
men had been able to resist this bewitching, volup- 
tuous woman. They were her slaves one and all ; 
and, although she appeared totally unaware of this, 
it did not lessen the secret enmity felt toward her 
by many of her own sex. From the moment of 
her entrance into the ball-room to-night she became 
the acknowledged queen of the occasion, the storm- 
centre of attraction for men and women alike — the 
one sex because of genuine admiration, the other 
against their wishes and only because of social eti- 
quette. 

Scarcely less attractive in personality was her 
brother Nicholas, whose eyes seemed loath to ever 
withdraw wholly from his sister. Baron Nicholas 
was tall, athletic, exceedingly well made and of 
military bearing. He was decidedly distingue in 
appearance. His hair, eyes and mustache were 
black, his nose clear cut and rather of the Greek 
type. His brow was lofty, denoting a powerful 
intellect. He was a linguist, a traveller, a man 
of the world, and his manners were perfect. 


42 The Victim's Triumph 

’Twas said that they belonged to one of the 
wealthiest families of the nobility in Russia; even 
connected, in a direct line, with the imperial family. 
Their manners and bearing, certainly, seemed to 
support this statement. To those fortunate enough 
to become more intimately acquainted with Nich- 
olas and his charming sister, the former, in a devil- 
may-care fashion, confided the fact that he had 
left, or, rather, was invited out of Russia, because 
of a youthful escapade, which had brought his 
father’s wrath and great displeasure down upon 
his head, causing him to quit St. Petersburg some- 
what hastily and come to America until the affair 
had blown over. His father, Duke Stanislaus 
Nicholas Ivanovitch, was so greatly angered at what 
he called his only son’s disgraceful conduct that he 
had also cut off his large allowance, so that for a 
time Nicholas found himself obliged to put up with 
modest surroundings and, in short, was in sore 
straits. It was then that his favorite sister, Ra- 
venna, Countess Ivanovitch, to whom he had con- 
fided his troubles, came bravely to his rescue, and 
in turn reported his difficulties to a very wealthy 


The Victim's Triumph 43 

aunt, who simply adored the dear, impetuous boy. 
Despite his youthful follies she at once came to his 
aid, with both advice and the remittances of a large 
sum of money. But more than this; in order to 
keep her beloved nephew out of further mischief 
in America, she had prevailed upon Ravenna to 
join her brother here until matters at home were 
adjusted, when both could again return to Russia 
together. Meanwhile the dear aunt would assume 
the responsibility of effecting a reconciliation with 
Nicholas’s father. Countess Ivanovitch had but 
recently joined her brother in New York, where she 
added her own large private income to idle dear 
aunt’s regular remittances to pay expenses. In- 
cidentally, and after considerable persuasion, they 
had consented to show many interesting photo- 
graphs and engravings representing the celebrated 
Ivanovitch castles, country seats and estates in 
Russia, which the New York papers begged per- 
mission to publish, and which were subsequently 
exhibited at the various art stores on Fifth Avenue, 
together with portraits of some of the royal con- 
nections of the famous Ivanovitch family. Nich- 


44 The Victim's Triumph 

olas and his sister entertained lavishly ; and society, 
ever eager for new diversions, instantly made the 
most of the noble pair. Thus within an incredibly 
short time they became the fad and fashion of the 
smart set. Indeed, such was the social prestige of 
the two that Fifth Avenue modistes were soon ask- 
ing permission to turn out hats and robes a la 
Ivanovitch. 

When the Countess and her brother entered the 
salon Lord Brighton was standing near the door, 
among a group of friends, amid whom was Chaun- 
cey. The latter had purposely kept close to his 
lordship so as to note the impression the Countess 
would make upon his invulnerable English heart. 
Lord Brighton started as his gaze fell upon the 
fair Russian, during the moment she had so grace- 
fully poised upon the threshold of the salon before 
entering, and while her beautiful face and figure 
were displayed to the greatest possible advantage 
within the fiower-covered frame of the large fold- 
ing door. Lord Brighton stopped short in the 
middle of one of his favorite sentences, and, with- 
out being conscious of the fact, stepped forward. 


The Victim's Triumph 45 

while adjusting his monocle, so as to get a better 
view of the beautiful vision. His lips quivered, 
then slightly parted, as if to utter an exclamation 
of surprise; but instead they remained open in si- 
lent, speechless wonderment. But though his lord- 
ship never uttered a word, it was evident, from his 
sudden pallor, that he had suffered an unusual 
emotion — one, indeed, which had driven all the 
blood to his heart. Stepping still nearer toward 
the door, he finally exclaimed, as if to himself, and 
in a voice trembling with emotion, “ I say, wonder- 
ful ! Positively charming ! Can’t be denied, dont- 
cherknow.” He was rudely aroused from his ecstasy 
by Chauncey, who took a hold of his arm. Well, 
my lord, you seem quite interested in the lady. 
Isn’t she a beauty ” 

Quite so, quite so ! Can’t deny it, you know ” — 
half averting his eyes in the endeavor to hide from 
Chauncey the great admiration he had conceived 
for the beautiful Countess, in spite of himself and 
all his resolutions against being impressed. 

Come, I’ll introduce you to her brother Nich- 
olas, Brighton. He is a splendid fellow, who, in 


46 The Victim's Triumph 

turn, will introduce you to his beautiful sister.” 
And taking Lord Brighton’s arm Chauncey led him 
over to a group of gentlemen who were shaking 
hands with Nicholas. The Baron saw them com- 
ing and stepped forward to meet them. Nicholas, 
who had known Chauncey Lament ever since his 
arrival in New York, greeted him cordially, and 
Chauncey introduced his friend. “ Baron, this is 
Lord Oliver Brighton, of London, England, an old 
friend of mine. Lord Brighton, this is Baron 
Nicholas Ivanovitch of St. Petersburgh.” 

Glad to meet you, Baron ; very glad indeed, 
dontcherknow.” The two men shook hands and 
bowed. 

You will find Lord Brighton an interesting 
conversationalist,” continued Chauncey to Nich- 
olas. He’s been all over the world and always 
has a fine collection of new stories.” 

Glad to know it, to be sure,” replied Nicholas. 

If there is any one I like to meet it is a man who 
has travelled, for I’ve travelled a great deal myself,” 
At that moment Chauncey started and blushed. 
“ You’ll pardon me, gentlemen, for a little while. 


The Victim s Triumph 47 

won’t you? I see a lady over there whom I must 
go and speak to,” and without awaiting their polite 
retort he hurried away and was soon deeply en- 
grossed with the lady he had designated, who, in 
turn, seemed delighted to see him. There was a 
cynical smile hidden in Nicholas’s jet black mus- 
tache, but it vanished in a second. The next mo- 
ment he was all suavity, all smiles again. “No 
doubt this lady is very dear to Mr. Lamont’s heart,” 
he said somewhat sarcastically. “We men don’t 
blush and feel embarrassed with ladies unless they 
preoccupy our hearts.” 

“ Just so, just so, Baron,” politely affirmed Lord 
Brighton. “ Shouldn’t wonder if Chauncey is in- 
terested in that quarter. He is a splendid fellow, 
though, dontcherknow.” 

“ You are right. Lord Brighton, and I love him 
dearly; in fact, we have been friends since we first 
met. But, by the way, I want your lordship to 
meet my sister. Let us walk over and I will intro- 
duce you,” and taking Lord Brighton’s arm in a 
friendly manner they sauntered over toward the 
crowd of admirers surrounding the Countess. 


48 The Victim's Triumph 

There was something in this young nobleman which 
in any one else would have been termed aggressive, 
but which in him, with his fine presence and dis- 
tinguished manners, simply added weight to his 
magnetic personality. 

When they had neared the group surrounding 
his sister, Nicholas excused himself for a moment 
from Lord Brighton while he asked her to be intro- 
duced. He stepped up to her, and with an affec- 
tionate smile murmured a few words in an under- 
tone. She nodded, slipped her arm in his and 
accompanied him to where Lord Brighton stood. 

Ravenna, dear ! ’’ said Nicholas, this is Lord 
Oliver Brighton, of London, England. Lord 
Brighton, permit me to introduce you to my sister, 
Ravenna, Countess Ivanovitch.” 

Brighton bowed very low. Countess, I am 
more than delighted to meet you. Surely I shall 
deem it an honor to be among your friends, and 
shall endeavor to be worthy of it.” 

The pleasure is mine. Lord Brighton,” she re- 
turned with a bewitching smile, and a look so full 
of intensity and feeling that it went straight to 


The Victim's Triumph 49 

his heart, while her warm little hand touched his 
for a moment. There was a suspicion of sarcasm 
about the corners of Nicholas’s mouth as he excused 
himself in order to meet some ladies just then pass- 
ing. Meanwhile Lord Brighton — who, for the first 
time in his life had really been interested in any 
woman — gallantly offered the Countess his arm 
and escorted her to the banquet hall, where he at- 
tended her throughout the supper, to the chagrin 
of a score of other and younger men. During 
supper champagne flowed freely, and many a clever 
toast was drunk to Miss Pennybaker’s success and 
social future. Opposite Lord Brighton and Ra- 
venna were seated Chauncey and the young lady 
for whom he had so abruptly left them in the ball- 
room. The pair seemed so deeply engrossed in 
each other as to be almost oblivious of their sur- 
roundings. Lord Brighton made use of the op- 
portunity, and said to the Countess in a low voice : 

Ah, my dear Countess, just look how those two 
young people are wrapt up in each other ! Charm- 
ing, don’t you know. Wonder who the young lady 
Is?” 


4 


50 The Victim's Triumph 

My dear Lord Brighton,” she returned, they 
are a charming couple. I believe the young lady 
is Miss Beatrice Cameron, daughter of General 
Cameron, a man of national renown. Don’t you 
think she is pretty ” 

I might think so did not every one sink into 
insignificance in presence of the Countess Ivano- 
vitch,” was his prompt rejoinder. 

“ Oh, you flatter me. I am afraid you are like 
all other men, who feed us on flattery, by which, 
after all, they mean nothing.” 

‘‘ Ah, Countess, pray do not class me with the 
average. I mean every word I say, and no other 
woman has ever heard one word of flattery from 
me. I couldn’t do it, you know. But — ” He 
was about to continue, when the conversation around 
them became too general, and he was forced to defer 
his personal remarks until a more suitable occasion. 

Meanwhile Chauncey, despite his blushes and 
embarrassment on seeing Miss Cameron, managed 
to continue paying assiduous court to that young 
lady. 

It has been already stated that Chauncey’s only 


The Victim's Triumph 51 

ostensible occupation seemed to consist in his effort 
to spend his father’s money faster than the latter 
could earn it. But this statement needs amend- 
ment. It must in truth be added of Chauncey 
that while he was quite a spendthrift, and fond of 
life in all its phases, it could not be said of him 
that he was either immoral or addicted to any ugly 
vices. Quite the contrary. He had an exceed- 
ingly kind heart and an ample purse, and the latter 
was continually levied upon by his impecunious 
friends. He was simply a boy with too much 
money. He had always been given whatever he de- 
sired, and hence had fallen into the habit of think- 
ing there was nothing beyond his reach. He was 
well educated, very shrewd in business matters, and 
absolutely truthful and loyal to his friends. There 
was an exclamation of genuine pleasure from both 
Miss Cameron and he as they met. Chauncey 
warmly grasped the young girl’s hands. I am so 
glad that you have come, Beatrice ; I’ve been look- 
ing for you everywhere. How are you? ” 

“ I am well, and so happy to see you, Chauncey,” 
warmly replied Beatrice ; although,” she added 


52 The Victim s Triumph 

quickly, “ I ought to be really angry with you for 
not keeping your promise about that sleigh ride 
we were going to take,” and she tried to pucker 
up her little mouth into a pout. 

Oh, don’t be angry,” laughed Chauncey good- 
naturedly. Besides, I confess my guilt ; and if 
it were not for these people, and the fear of their 
believing me mentally shipwrecked, I would bow low 
and humbly beg your pardon for not having more 
snow on the ground — my only excuse, I assure 
you, for not keeping my promise. But if you must 
and will have more snow you shall have it, if I have 
to go to see Old Jupiter myself. I swear it by the 
beard of my father.” 

“Why, Chauncey, your father has no beard!” 

“Oh, that’s so. Well.?” 

“ Ah, you’ll manage to circumnavigate the 
point,” she laughingly said. “ But, tell me, 
Chauncey, what have you been doing with yourself 
since I last saw you ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve been really busy with my new duties, 
for, you know, I’ve been selected corresponding 
secretary of the New York Society for the intro- 


The Victim's Triumph 58 

duction of classic literature among the negroes in 
South Africa, and, besides, I did a lot of things 
socially, sweetheart. Forgive me, Beatrice,” he 
added, seeing the young girl blushing violently at 
this familiarity. You know we are sweethearts; 
and I hope, Beatrice, that we will always be sweet- 
hearts,” and again taking the young girl’s hand 
he looked earnestly into her upturned face as they 
silently walked toward one of the little conserva- 
tories adjoining the ball-room, where they seated 
themselves upon a divan in a secluded corner be- 
neath the overhanging verdure of orchids and 
palms. 

Yes, Chauncey,” she softly replied; and fal- 
teringly added : if you wish to call me sweetheart, 
why — why — ” Here she again blushed, bowed her 
head in confusion and blurted out, why — you 
may.” There was profound sincerity and feeling 
in the young girl’s voice as she confidingly placed 
her hand in his. 

Chauncey was deeply touched, for though Bea- 
trice had been his first and truest friend in his col- 
lege days and always possessed his heart, he was 


54 The Victim's Triumph 

unaware that his love was so fully reciprocated, 
and that the years that had passed since then had 
only strengthened their affection. 

Beatrice Cameron was one of those sweet-faced 
girls with large, soulful blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, 
plenty of hair and, apparently, a splendid form. 
She was the daughter of General Beauregard 
Cameron, a famous old soldier. She had spent the 
greater part of her childhood and girlhood in 
boarding schools. In ealiest years she had been 
a schoolmate and comrade of Chauncey, who then 
was wont to carry her books, help her with her les- 
sons and was her dutiful cavalier upon all occasions. 
Quite naturally, an innocent but lasting friendship 
had grown and bound these two young hearts to- 
gether, which friendship, as the years passed on, 
ripened gradually into a more tender affection. 
Chauncey fondly lifted the girl’s face to his and 
pressed a kiss upon her lips. Language became 
superfluous between these two, and they remained 
silent for a few moments. Then Chauncey said 
caressingly, ‘‘ Beatrice, dear, when may I call you 
all my own.? You know, sweetheart, all lovers are 


The Victim's Triumph 55 

impatient, and I — I — well, I’m awfully impatient,” 
he added with a smile. 

She sweetly replied, with a gentle tap of her fan, 

I have promised father to wait until I am twenty- 
three, and I love papa too much to grieve him by 
disobeying. But come, dear, let us return to the 
ball-room, or else our continued absence may cause 
unpleasant comment.” 

“ You are right,” replied Chauncey, getting up; 
“ and I should have had better sense than to keep 
3^ou here so long. Let us return at once.” 

They had hardly left the little conservatory when 
the palms in front of which they had been slating 
parted and Nicholas stepped out. Ordinarily a 
handsome man, there was at this particular moment 
something decidedly base in Nicholas’s finely-cut 
features, and a cruel, sarcastic smile lurked about 
his thin lips. He brushed his coat, then took a 
silver cigarette case from his pocket, lighted a 
cigarette and sitting upon the divan which the 
two young lovers had just left he began to smoke 
and soliloquize. 


56 The Victim's Triumph 

Love ! Bah, what bosh ! As if there was such 
a thing as love. Ha, ha, ha! What fools, with 
their billing and cooing! But, nevertheless, they 
are going to marry! Will they? No, by heaven 
they shall not! Not while little Nicholas needs 
her money ; for she has money, this mild-eyed, 
mushy little dove; I’ll ruin this little game, no 
matter at what cost. She must be mine. Not a 
moment longer wasted, by the way, until I have 
her money. That is all I want, for I hate such 
weak, silly girls, without strength of character or a 
will of their own ; girls who are swayed like a reed in 
the wind. Give me the dashing girl, with fire and 

spunk ; the girl that fights, the girls that says d 

when she thinks it, and drinks a cocktail when she 
wants it! That’s the sort of a girl that can put 
her clothes in my trunk any day.” He suddenly 
jumped up and listened. “ Somebody’s coming 
I believe.” Quickly he dropped his cigarette and 
put his foot on it to smother the burning end, then 
pulling his handkerchief from his pocket he made 
a few passes to get rid of the smoke, and had 
barely time to disappear in his hiding place behind 


The Victim's Triumph 57 

the palms when Lord Brighton and Countess Ivano- 
vitch entered the little conservatory. 

The Countess, apparently unmindful of the com- 
ment her action might have caused, had given Lord 
Brighton a number of dances, to that gentleman’s 
great delight. Bob and Chauncey looked on, 
amazed at the remarkable metamorphosis their 
English friend was undergoing since his eyes first 
lighted on the Russian beauty. Countess Ivano- 
vitch was an exquisite dancer; the rhythmic move- 
ments of her undulating form as she abandoned 
herself with fawn-like grace in Lord Brighton’s 
arms and followed the harmonious strains of the 
music, now soft and enchanting, then fast and 
furious, had been the cynosure of all eyes. She 
seemed to electrify the erstwhile British stoic and 
bring him back to his youth. There was a marked 
contrast between the two as they entered the con- 
servatory for a much needed rest. Lord Brighton 
was flushed with excitement. His eyes seemed to 
sparkle with life and activity, his hands trembled 
with emotion as he led the fair woman to the divan, 
which had served a scene so vastly different in 


58 The Victim's Triumph 

character within the hour. The Countess on the 
contrary, though somewhat fatigued and out of 
breath from dancing, seemed otherwise perfectly 
cool and collected. Upon her lovely face there 
still lingered the flush caused by the rapid motion 
of the waltz. Her beautiful bosom rose and fell 
with tantalizing buoyancy. In her hand she held 
a small gold bound card with a diminutive jewelled 
pencil suspended by a chain of the same material. 
Her lustrous eyes had a look of voluptuous ease, 
as though she welcomed this little tete-a-tete more 
as an opportunity to sit down than anything else. 

Oh, I am so glad to sit down. Lord Brighton,” 
she began. Aren’t you.?^ ” 

Why, certainly, my dear Countess, if only be- 
cause it affords me the great pleasure of being for 
a few moments alone with you.” 

“ Please don’t ! I have told you I detest flat- 
tery.” 

‘‘ I beg you a thousand and one pardons. Coun- 
tess ; I shall endeavor to correct the fault I possess 
with the rest of mankind — ^that of flattering those 
we admire.” 


The Victim's Triumph 59 

Ravenna laughed at this queer attempt on the 
Englishman’s part to excuse flattery by flattery. 

You are making matters worse instead of better, 
Lord Brighton.” 

Please pardon me this once, won’t you ? And 
I beg you to correct me in whatever you find de- 
fective in me. I shall consider it a special favor 
to be corrected by so charming — Oh, oh, oh, I 
beg your pardon.” 

You are incorrigible, you see,” she observed, 
with a look of amused indulgence that caused Lord 
Brighton to pale with emotion. 

May I bring you some refreshment.? You 
must be thirsty.” 

Thank you, I shall take a glass of lemon-ice.” 

With pleasure, Countess,” and he started off 
to serve her. 

This is delicious after the exertions of the even- 
ing,” observed Ravenna, as her pink digits lifted 
the glass to her rosy lips, and very refreshing.” 

So it is,” he added. May I inquire how you 
enjoyed the dancing.? ” 


60 The Victim's Triumph 

Very much indeed, thank you. I am passion- 
ately fond of it, and could continue indefinitely. 
But how about yourself? ” 

Don’t ask me. Countess. I can’t account for 
it at all. I am quite a stranger to myself this even- 
ing, I assure you. Didn’t know it could be done, 
dontcherknow. Haven’t waltzed in five years. But 
your dancing was so divine and infectious that I 
couldn’t help it, dontcherknow.” He said this as 
he slowly sipped his lemon-ice. 

And it was true. Lord Brighton had not danced 
in years, and had believed himself unable to do a 
single step. But when he felt this charming, pal- 
pitating woman leaning upon his arm, inhaled the 
perfume-laden intensity of her intoxicating being, 
and met the burning gaze of her laughing, pleas- 
ure-seeking eyes as the music struck up the famous 
Strauss waltz, and the slender waist his arm en- 
circled began to sway back and forth to the melo- 
dious strains, he was irresistibly engulfed in the 
vortex of harmony and motion, and to his surprise 
danced admirably. 

At any rate I enjoyed myself immensely. Per- 


The VictM s Triumph 61 

mit me,” he added, seeing that Ravenna looked 
somewhat warm, and he began fanning her. 

“ Oh, thank you. Lord Brighton,” she returned, 
evidently delighted, and in her element amidst this 
assiduity of her admirer. You are exceedingly 
kind, and seem to divine my every wish. These 
many lights are very heating. Let us return to 
the ball-room, or else our prolonged absence may 
cause unpleasant remarks.” 

“ With pleasure, madame,” he replied with polite 
gravity. But ere we return may I ask you to 
accord me the great pleasure of visiting you at 
your home? ” and he accompanied these words with 
a gesture of profound entreaty. 

Countess Ivanovitch evinced a distinct pleasure 
at this question, and it was with real sincerity she 
said, I shall be pleased to receive you at my 
home. Lord Brighton.” 

He bowed low, in silence offered her his arm and 
together they returned to the ball-room. 

A moment later her brother Nicholas stepped 
from his hiding place behind the palms and hast- 
ened after her. 


62 The Victim's Triumph 

While Beatrice and Chauncey had been exchang- 
ing confidences in the little conservatory a very dif- 
ferent discussion was taking place in a nook oppo- 
site, on the other side of the ball-room, which 
formed the centre of the Penny baker mansion. 
Here love and sentiment were out of the question, 
for the little room was occupied by four young 
married women, who as the evening wore on had 
found this cosy retreat, where, secure from the 
tiresome platitudes of the bald-headed gentlemen 
in evening clothes, they were enjoying a quiet cup 
of tea all by themselves and a confidential chat 
about their absent friends. What more could be 
desired from these ladies’ present standpoint.^ They 
were talking dress and picking Countess Ivano- 
vitch into small silken shreds. 

Oh, dear me, yes ! ” spoke Mrs. Lydia Fair- 
banks, wife of a soap manufacturer who had cleaned 
up millions. You don’t mean to tell me, Mrs. 
Drayton, that those hips are all hers.? Why, it 
couldn’t be, they are too perfect. Nature never 
made a woman so perfect. Any way. I’ll never 
believe it. Do you, Mrs. Norton? ” 


The Victim's Triumph 68 

Of course not,” promptly replied Mrs. Nor- 
ton, wife of a self-made man of great wealth, who 
had started by selling axle grease, put up in small 
tin boxes, as the greatest corn-salve on earth, and 
was never found out. 

I think she wears the new rubber hips that are 
all the rage now. You inflate them as you would 
an air-cushion and tie them around your waist, and 
you can’t really tell them from the real.” 

Oh, how perfectly dreadful! I wouldn’t wear 
those things for all the world. I wouldn’t care how 
unshapely I was,” exclaimed Mrs. Varick. 

Nor would I,” chimed in Mrs. Fairbanks. 

Well, it’s a good thing we don’t need them,” 
observed Mrs. Norton. But did 3’ou see that 
dress she wore? Well, of all the ugly styles I ever 
saw that dress is certainly the worst. The very 
idea of having hand-painted American beauty roses 
on a black velvet princess gown! Well, well, it’s 
preposterous ! She only does it to attract atten- 
tion.” 

But, Mrs. Norton, didn’t I hear you tell her 
it was the loveliest gown you ever saw ; such a love 


64 The Victim's Triumph 

of a dress that you would order one next week, 
with her permission ? ” observed Mrs. Drayton. 

“ Oh, well, you know, Mrs. Drayton, you have 
to say those things to keep on the sugared side of 
jjeople.” 

Certainly you do,” supplemented Mrs. Fair- 
banks. What would become of society if people 
dared speak the truth 

There wouldn’t be any,” cynically remarked 
Mrs. Varick, as she lifted a cup of tea to her aris- 
tocatic lips, while taking great care that her friends 
could see the magnificent new pearl worn upon 
her little finger. You may all think what you 
please, but I don’t like the Countess. To a very 
discerning observer she is not a pretty woman. Of 
course, she carries her head prettily, but heavens 
above, she needn’t think she is the only one. By 
the way, Mrs. Norton, don’t you think her hair 
looks bleached and her complexion fatigued, as the 
French say.^ I never saw such blonde hair as hers 
that wasn’t bleached. Did you.^” 

Oh, you needn’t think anything about it, 
ladies,” broke in Mrs. Fairbanks. I hnow it is. 


The Victim's Triumph 65 

My maid told me so; she ought to know, for she 
helped her rearrange her hair in the boudoir, and 
she says it was darker at the roots.” 

I thought so,” coincided Mrs. Varick, with a 
shrug of her pretty shoulders. I tell you, I 
don’t believe in people doing these vulgar things 
just to attract attention. It is very coarse.” 

“ Yes, and all that studied simplicity in her 
dress. It’s altogether too severe to be natural. 
It’s all done for effect,” opined Mrs. Drayton, as 
she declined some more tea. 

Do you know, I wonder If she is really a 
Countess.^” here interrupted Mrs. Norton. 

‘‘Oh, mercy, yes!” rejoined Mrs. Fairbanks. 
“ She is a Countess, certainly. My husband knows 
all about them, besides the papers published long 
articles about their Russian estates and their fam- 
ily. He thinks she’s lovely, and says she’s the 
finest-looking woman he has seen for years. But 
then I have only a limited confidence in my hus- 
band’s judgment.” 

“ My husband thinks the same,” broke in Mrs. 
Varick. 


5 


66 The Victim’s Triumph 

And so does mine,” exclaimed Mrs. Drayton. 
But that’s just like men, their capacity for tak- 
ing rose-colored views doesn’t amount to much ; 
every new face they see is the loveliest. And 
did you see, ladies, how they all crowded around 
her and almost fought for an introduction.^ Es- 
pecially Lord Brighton; why, he acted perfectly 
foolish from the moment he saw her, and just 
couldn’t keep away.” 

Yes, and did you see, Mrs. Drayton, how 
nicely she treated him, and danced with him al- 
most exclusively ” 

Yes, and everybody was talking about it,” 
observed Mrs. Varick. Perhaps she is after his 
millions; but if she is, she’s wasting her time, for 
that old Englishman won’t marry anybody.” 

Somebody told me,” explained Mrs. Fairbanks, 
that he was after that silly little goose of a 
Pennybaker girl, but I don’t believe it. Any way, 
if he gets her he will have to keep her in the city, 
for in the country I am sure the cows would nibble 
on her.” 

A general laugh followed this little joke of Mrs. 


The Victim's Triumph 67 

Fairbanks at the expense of the young girl whose 
debut into society they had come to celebrate. 

No, no, dear,” rejoined Mrs. Norton, “ she’ll 
never marry anybody unless it is Mr. Armstrong, 
and I believe he likes her very well, for he is just 
the sort of man that fancies these angelic little 
feminine Dresden dolls.” 

Here their little chat was interrupted by the 
music which began to play in the ball-room. So 
the four ladies rejoined the other guests. 


CHAPTER III 


OLD FOES 

ND how did Bob Armstrong occupy his 
time that evening at the Pennybaker 
mansion? The fact that Chauncey did 
not introduce both Lord Brighton and Bob to- 
gether to the Countess, as they had agreed upon 
doing, was due to Bob Armstrong, who, for some 
unknown reason, had asked Chauncey, at the last 
moment to defer his introduction to the Countess 
until he might request it. Thus, when the Coun- 
tess approached. Bob was standing directly fac- 
ing the door, and as she and Nicholas stepped 
into the brilliantly lighted ball-room, the eyes of 
the two men met. The effect was startling, though 
it was visible only for the fraction of a second. 
At sight of Nicholas, Bob turned pale as death, 
while his brows knitted as If he was trying to 
recall the face of the young Russian before him. 
As to Nicholas, if he had ever seen Bob Armstrong 




The Victim's Triumph 69 

before in his life and had recognized him, the fact* 
was not apparent. He merely gave an involun- 
tary little start and tightly closed his lips; the 
next moment his face was as impenetrable as that 
of a sphinx. Bob never moved until Chauncey 
had introduced Lord Brighton, then he hastened 
to a smoking-room located at the further end of 
the vast banquet hall, where, after assuring him- 
self that he was quite alone, he took from the inner 
pocket of his waistcoat a wallet containing some 
papers ; they were yellow with age and much torn. 
Sitting down upon a divan in a secluded corner 
he picked out one particular envelope somewhat 
larger in size than the others, from which he ex- 
tracted a small photograph. Then, returning the 
other letters to their hiding place, he leaned back 
in the divan and gazed long and earnestly at the 
picture. Strange, very strange indeed,” ran his 
thoughts. Can it be possible That man’s face 
is wonderfully familiar to me. His height, the 
build, the bearing, all are the same ; and yet it can’t 
possibly be, for I saw him myself at Sing Sing, a 
convict. I must be mistaken. It can’t be. Never- 


70 The Victim's Triumph 

theless, I won’t rest until I get at the bottom of 
this marvellous resemblance. And if — if it should 
prove true. If my strange hallucination should be 
correct, then indeed fate has favored me. Let me? 
see, how many years is it now.? ” and dropping 
the photograph in his lap he began counting the 
years. “Yes, just ten years ago next Sunday; 
ten long years. Will I ever forget that Sunday 
night.? How things have changed since then!” 
He sighed deeply, as if the sight of the miniature 
he had so earnestly contemplated had awakened 
bitter recollections. Again he gazed at it, then 
putting it back in the envelope he replaced the 
wallet in his pocket. From this moment on he be- 
came Bob Armstrong the detective. Slowly he 
walked back and mingled with the guests, who now 
had nearly all arrived. When he reached the ball- 
room he looked around as though in quest of some 
one, and seeing Chauncey Lamont in the near dis- 
tance, he resolutely walked up to him and said: 
“ Old boy, I wish you would take me over to Ivano- 
vitch and give me an introduction. I am ready 
for it now.” 


The Victim's Triumph 71 

“ Why didn’t you let me introduce you a while 
ago? ” asked Chauncey with some astonishment. 

Well, I really don’t know myself. It was just 
a queer notion of mine. You have always been a 
loyal friend to me, and I have full confidence in 
you, yet there are reasons, weighty reasons, which 
prevent my explaining this thing to you just now. 
But I promise you that I will tell you later.” 

“ Well, all right ; but you surely have got 
me guessing. There’s something behind all this, 
old man, if I know you aright,” he added, somewhat 
curiously. 

There is,” said Bob simply, and then he con- 
tinued : Any way, Chauncey, I want an introduc- 
tion now, and want it badly.” 

All right,” obligingly replied Chauncey again. 

Come on.” And taking his friend by the arm 
they walked over to where Nicholas was chatting 
with some people.” 

“ Baron Ivanovitch,” said Chauncey, let me 
introduce you to my friend, and one of the best 
fellows that ever wrote a check. Bob, allow me. 
Baron Nicholas Ivanovitch of St. Petersburg.” 


72 The Victim's Triumph 

They shook hands and bowed. Then they 
looked up, and for the second time that evening 
their eyes met. Neither flinched, only Nicholas 
seemed to grow an inch taller and drew himself 
up to his full height, as he faced Bob, and a close 
observer might have discerned a look of fierce de- 
fiance mingled with hatred in his black eyes. As 
for Bob, his face bore that look of quiet self- 
possession and ease that characterizes the mental 
giant, the careful general and strategist, the man 
who maps out his plans and carries them out with 
mathematical accuracy. As these two men faced 
each other beneath the dazzling lights of the ball- 
room, it could be felt, despite their perfect man- 
ners and the politeness of their greeting, that two 
mortal foes had met, and a battle to the very death 
for mastery was on between them. After they 
had thus mentally measured each other, Nicholas 
was the first to speak. I am delighted to meet 
you, Mr. Armstrong, I am sure,” he said dramat- 
ically, with just the slightest suspicion of sarcasm. 

And I am pleased to meet you,” said Bob, and 
the acquaintance was consummated. From that 


The Victim" s Triumph 73 

moment on Bob Armstrong never let his eyes stray 
far from the young nobleman, who, apparently, 
had not the slightest suspicion that he was being 
watched by this new acquaintance. If he was 
aware of the profound interest he had inspired he 
certainly gave Bob not the slightest opportunity 
to confirm his suspicion. After they had for some 
minutes chatted upon topics of general interest. 
Bob inquired, I suppose this is your first visit 
to this country, Baron.? ” 

Yes, my very first,” the latter replied, with 
an emphasis upon the very, and I must say,” he 
added, “ I am simply delighted ; charmed with this 
country and its people. I wish I could live here 
for ever; but of course that is altogether out of 
the question; at least I couldn’t think of it while 
my father is living.” 

Well,” rejoined Bob, I certainly must com- 
pliment you upon your perfect English, Baron 
Ivanovitch. ’Tis rather unusual for a foreigner 
to so completely master the language.” 

It was evident Bob did not believe the Baron’s 
statement that this was his first visit to America. 


74 The Victim's Triumph 

No, there is nothing unusual in my English, 
Mr. Armstrong. We Russians have splendid 
schools and universities. Our English teachers are 
mostly native Americans. Besides, all Russians of 
the better class have decided linguistic talents. 
Now my sister, for instance, though considerably 
younger than I, has a far better command of the 
English than I have. By the way,” he suddenly 
added, as if glad of the opportunity to change the 
subject, “would you like to meet her.^^ She is a 
charming girl, and one of the best sisters imagin- 
able.” 

“ I should be delighted, I am sure.” 

“ Very well, come on,” and Nicholas took Bob 
by the arm and led him to where his sister was 
surrounded by a circle of admirers. 

“ Ravenna,” he said, “ this is Mr. Armstrong, 
a new acquaintance of mine. Mr. Armstrong, al- 
low me to introduce you to my sister.” 

“ I am most happy to know you, Mr. Arm- 
strong,” graciously said the Countess with a charm- 
ing smile. “ Any one who is a friend of my brother 
is sure to be mine,” and she held out her hand, 
which he shook cordially. 


The Victim's Triumph 75 

Madame,” replied Bob, with a profound bow, 
I am pleased as well as surprised to find that 
Baron Ivanovitch has so charming a sister.” 

After a short conversation Bob left the Coun- 
tess, whose whole attention was being absorbed by 
the assiduous and irrepressible Lord Brighton, and 
with Nicholas walked toward the banquet hall, 
where supper was being served. There Nicholas 
met other friends and left Bob. The latter on 
looking about gave a start of surprise and hast- 
ened toward a young woman who had just entered 
the hall from the other side. She saw him ap- 
proach and held out both hands with undisguised 
pleasure. 

Why, how do you do, Bob.^ Haven’t seen you 
since the Brooklyn Handicap.” 

That’s right, Fanny. How are you?” and 
Bob warmly shook the girl’s hands. You look in 
capital condition,” he said. 

Yes, and I am feeling well. Going out all 
the time. Say, Bob,” she suddenly interrupted 
herself, you haven’t seen my new colt, have you? 
Oh, she’s a peach! She will trot the rest of the 


76 The Victim's Triumph 

bunch to a standstill, I’ll tell you that, Bob.” 

Is that so? Where did you get her?” 

Oh, I swapped old Fleetfoot for her with a 
ten spot on the side. It was a bargain ! I wouldn’t 
take double for her now.” 

You seem to be awfully gone on her, Fanny.” 

“Am I? Well, I should remark! But say. 
Bob, she has the prettiest feet you ever saw, and is 
built like a deer. Really, Bob, do you know, I 
think I can knock the little spots out of anything 
running this season.” 

“ Well, how did you come out at the Brooklyn 
Handicap? ” 

“ Great, Bob. I had a lead pipe cinch. Tod 
Callahan tipped me off on Salvable, and I didn’t 
do a thing but cleaned up eight thousand. Why, 
’twas just like finding money.” 

“ Did you? ” 

“ Didn’t you pick up any money on Salvable ? ” 

“ Nothing to speak of, Fanny. I had no faith 
in him, and only put a few dollars on him for 
place.” 


The Victim's Triumph 77 

The young girl who had greeted Bob in this 
familiar manner was Miss Fanny Chase, and, as 
the reader has probably discovered, she was a fair 
type of the modern sportive femininity known as 
“ The Horsey Girl.” Fanny was the only daugh- 
ter of a millionaire horse owner and racing mag- 
nate. She was about twenty-four years of age, with 
a healthy, well-developed figure, a fine complexion, 
an attractive face and a big head full of hair. 
Her eyes were large, a dark gray and full of fire, 
mischief and fearlessness. She had grown up in 
the horsey atmosphere, and had ridden ponies ever 
since she was big enough to hold the reins, down 
at her father’s big ranche in New Mexico; where 
the cowboys swore by Fanny Chase, who knew all 
there was to be known about the equine family in 
general. Being an expert horsewoman, a famous 
whip and an all round connoisseur, she had so con- 
tinually associated with the race-horse fraternity 
that her manners, talk and even appearance were 
permeated therewith, so that it was next to impos- 
sible to imagine Fanny Chase otherwise than 
dressed in a riding-habit, tugged up in the back. 


78 The Victim's Triumph 

or, more frequently, in a short skirt, black derby 
and carrying a riding- whip. She was decidedly 
a unique character, and there was not a race-horse 
man of note or string owner in the country that 
was not directly or indirectly acquainted with her. 
It was said that even the horses knew her. Fanny 
was what you may call a jolly good comrade. She 
could drink a highball, smoke a cigarette when 
she wanted to, d when she thought it neces- 

sary, listen to a good story or tell one and talk 
horses from morning until night. And yet, de- 
spite those sporting proclivities, she was thor- 
oughly good, and woe to the man who would dare 
insult her. Hence she was universally respected, 
and enjoyed the highest esteem of both young and 
old. 

Bob and Fanny had been firm friends for a long 
time. They mutually admired each other’s many 
sterling qualities in a perfectly harmless way, and 
were frequently riding, driving or attending the 
races together, in which both were more or less 
interested. 

Without being consciously in love with Bob she 


The Victim's Triumph 79 

liked this right-minded moral man, whose life, de- 
spite his wealth, was an open book wherein no 
pages stuck together. He valued her good fellow- 
ship, and above all her kindness of heart; for 
Fanny behind her riding-habit carried a heart pure 
as steel, and many a poor wretched family prayed 
for the happiness and success of this strange, 
horsey girl, who would come along unexpectedly 
in her riding-suit, whip in hand, and spend whole 
afternoons with the ragged, hungry urchins of 
tenement districts, and on leaving slip a bill into 
the poor mother’s hand, or send her a supply of 
fuel for the winter. Nor was her benevolence done 
for advertising purposes, as is, unfortunately, the 
case with many of our “ best people ” nowadays. 
No, Fanny was the true philanthropist. She was 
too sensible a girl to buy flowers for the poor or, 
worse still, donate whole libraries to people who 
needed food. Not at all ; hers was real charity ; it 
was done unostentatiously and thoroughly. She 
did good for the mere pleasure of doing good. 

Fanny,” said Bob, I may want to ask a great 
favor of you in the near future, and there isn’t a 


80 The Victim's Triumph 

soul in the wide world that I would or could ask it 
from but you. Will you grant it, regardless of 
what it may be.^ ” and he gave the young girl a 
look of such earnestness as plainly proclaimed she 
possessed his entire confidence. 

Why, of course. Bob. Need you ask? But 
look here, you seem so serious that I really believe 
you either want to propose to me or buy my filly.” 
And she gave a laugh full of jolly merriment. 

“ Neither, Fanny,” continued Bob, with a look 
that belied his words. Besides, a gray old bache- 
lor like me, on the shady side of thirty-five, would 
never suit a handsome young spitfire like you.” 

“ Back to the paddock with those funeral airs. 
Bob. It’s all nonsense. You are all right, and 
I wouldn’t want you to be otherwise. Now, will 
you be good.^ But tell me, what do you want.? 
Don’t hesitate, for you know I am your friend, and 
you can have anything I’ve got — even my filly, if 
you really need it.” 

Thank you,” replied Bob, with a touch of emo- 
tion at the girl’s kindness of heart. What I want 


The Victiins Triumph 81 

to ask you is something far more difficult and im- 
portant.” 

‘‘No matter, I’ll do it for you, depend upon 
it.” 

“ Fanny,” he continued, “ let us meet at some 
private place and I will tell you. It must be a 
place where no one can overhear us. What do you 
say to my coming up to your house ? ” 

“ That’s the very place. Bob. We’ll go to my 
den, where no one can disturb us. It will be abso- 
lutely safe. Let me know when it shall be. Just 
ask the butler when you come to show you up. And 
say. I’ll have some fine cigars, and cocktails, and 
highballs, and gin fizzes, and anything you want. 
Besides, you are going to look my filly over, aren’t 
you.? ” 

“ Thank you, Fanny, I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll 
have to leave you now.” 

“ Good-by, Bob. Be good to yourself. I am 
going over to give Miss Pennybaker my sympathy 
for having been projected into society. Poor girl! 
She doesn’t know what she’s got into.” The two 
cordially shook hands. “ Good-by,” again she said. 

6 


82 The Victim's Triumph 

Walking a few steps she suddenly turned and 
called after Bob, who by this time had nearly 
reached the door. Oh, Bob. As you go down 
ask the butler to have my auto-know-better at the 
door in about fifteen minutes, will you, please.? 
Here’s my chauffeur’s number,” and she handed 
Bob a tiny check and walked off. 

Miss Chase walked through the banquet hall, 
where she was stopped by friends at nearly every 
step, for she was a general favorite, even with her 
own sex, who admired in her, aside from her wealth, 
that which they lacked — namely, independence, 
broad-mindedness and individuality. Fanny did 
not stop long anywhere, however, but sought and 
found Miss Alma Penny baker, the young debutante. 
The two had been friends since the latter’s child- 
hood, and Alma loved this frank, kind-hearted girl 
very dearly, for, les extremes se t ouches , and 
these two girls were in every way radically differ- 
ent. They kissed each other as they met. Fanny 
without much ado put her arms about her young 
friend, and said : 

Alma, I came to tell you good-night, and, inci- 


The Victim's Triumph 83 

dentally, to give you a few words of good advice,” 
saying which she kissed her again. “ I have only 
a few moments to spare, for my ^ mobe ’ is waiting 
downstairs. But come, Alma, let’s walk over to 
the divan in the corner, where they can’t hear us.” 

When the two girls had seated themselves, Alma 
said : 

Fanny, I can guess what you came to tell me, 
for amidst all this splendor and luxury, among all 
these so-called friends, there is none save you whom 
I would call friend.” 

What I wanted to say to you is this, Alma. 
You have been entered to-day in the Society Race. 
It’s an exclusive meeting, where nothing but horses 
with good backing can run. You’ve got the back- 
ing ! Now then, Alma, Society represents a string 
of talent from all sorts of stables, some with pedi- 
gree, others without. Their past performances are 
a matter of record. But what I want to tell you 
is this: They are a swift bunch, and have backing 
enough to maintain a fast track. There are some 
very good horses among them, horses with a past, 
and there are others who had no past and never will 


84 The Victim's Triumph 

have a future ; they are in it only because they have 
the backing, and will drop out of the race when 
their backing evaporates. One thing I want to 
say, dear, they are up to all sorts of tricks, and 
what they don’t know isn’t worth remembering. 
Their motto is ^ Get there ’ at any cost. Of course, 
they don’t advertise their methods on the Grand 
Stand, but when you are on to their little ways 
you can see what they are on the home stretch. 
Now then, Alma dear, among that bunch you are 
only a little filly, and little fiillies like you that are 
new and don’t understand is what they are looking 
for. They will swarm around you like trainers 
around a new colt, tell you that you are a winner 
and will leave the rest of the string at the post, 
or come in a dozen lengths ahead on the home 
stretch. Now I just want to say to you, dear, 
that they simply want to get on to your style, so 
that they can mete it out to you when you least 
expect it, and make you think them your friends. 
Remember, Alma, your truest friend on earth is 
yourself, as long as you keep a patent leather 
finish on your self-respect, and keep your con- 


The Victim's Triumph 85 

science free from punctures, as a young filly like 
you should, you will have no trouble, and you will 
do honor to yourself and your trainers. Never 
permit yourself to grab the bit between your teeth 
and run away from yourself. Just listen to those 
that would have you do that in an absent-minded 
sort of way, and when they get through forget it. 
Do as though they had never spoken, and have a 
quiet little talk with yourself and your conscience. 
Keep a strangle-hold upon those people who tell 
you your mistakes, and give those who flatter you 
the marble heart without the slightest regret; and 
if ever you are in trouble and don’t know what to 
do, come to me, and I’ll tip you off.” With this 
Fanny put her arm around her friend’s neck, kissed 
her good-by, and was gone. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE WORM THAT TURNED 

is four weeks since the Pennybaker ball, 
and during that time social duties had 
left the beautiful Countess scant respite 
or repose. To-night, however, she was at home. 
The place which Ravenna called home was an 
apartment situated in one of the most exclusive 
sections of Central Park West. It was on the 
second floor and faced the park. The apartment 
consisted of twelve rooms, furnished in the most 
lavish style that taste could devise and money 
supply. It was quite impossible for any one ac- 
customed to the good things of life not to feel at 
home in this delightful spot, as cosy as it was 
sumptuous, with its magnificent furniture, tapes- 
tries and appointments that combined every luxury 
with every convenience. The front parlor, whose 
four large bay-windows overlooked the park, was 
octagon in shape, with a hand-painted plafond, 


The Victim's Triumph 87 

which in itself was a msterpiece of art. Heavy 
silken draperies and portieres abounded, imparting 
to the room a semi-oriental effect. The wall fac- 
ing the windows was partly covered with antique 
tapestry of rare texture. The centre of the ceil- 
ing was a magnificent piece of stucco-work repre- 
senting the terrestrial globe, supported upon the 
shoulders of Atlas. The floors throughout the 
apartment were inlaid and covered at intervals 
with costly rugs that made footsteps inaudible. 
Next to the parlor, and connecting therewith, was 
a small anteroom which Nicholas had turned into 
a sort of lounging and smoking-room. Next to 
this was Countess Ivanovitch’s boudoir. This sanc- 
tuary, that held all of this ravishing woman’s little 
secrets, was a perfect dream of luxury and taste. 
The appointments and decorations throughout were 
of a delicate shade of pale blue, trimmed in bright 
gold. A large bed, with an immense tester sup- 
ported by four richly carved Ionian columns, occu- 
pied the rear wall. 

The other walls were occupied by large French 
mirrors held in place and connected with the ceil- 


88 The Victim's Triumph / 

ing at the upper corners by little cupids of rare 
beauty. A large electric chandelier, whose tiny, 
multi-colored globes were made to represent in their 
ensemble a huge bouquet of roses, hung suspended 
from the centre. When lighted the effect was 
startling and beautiful in the extreme. Rich dra- 
peries, portieres and silk curtains excluded from 
this charming retreat of a still more charming 
woman just enough of the daylight to throw upon 
the apartment that hush of soft, languorous semi- 
obscurity so restful to the eye and so seductive to 
the senses. The bed, the draperies, yea, even the 
walls, of this luxurious little boudoir seemed to ex- 
hale that fragrant perfume that renders the at- 
mosphere about a beautiful woman so voluptuously 
intoxicating. Aside from the rooms just described 
there remained the other usual apartments, which 
it is needless to describe. 

It is just seven o’clock. At nine o’clock Lord 
Brighton will call. Nicholas is busy in the library. 
The Countess is in her boudoir, in her maid’s hands, 
dressing. She is about to face the most important 
moment in a woman’s life — the moment upon which 


The Vidimus Triumph 


89 


will depend the happiness or woe of her entire 
future. What will her answer be.? What are her 
thoughts, her hopes, her fears.? She alone knows. 
At the present moment the little boudoir presents 
a mere chaos, as does the boudoir of every beauti- 
ful woman when she is dressing. The curtains are 
tightly drawn, every globe in the chandelier sends 
forth a different colored light. The radiator per- 
meates the boudoir with genial warmth. Upon the 
divan, the chairs and bed rich gowns of silk and 
lace are spread in graceful profusion. A number 
of satin slippers of different hues, and, apparently, 
too small to fit any human foot, are lying about. 
The dresser is covered with the thousand and one 
requisites so indispensable to the woman of fashion. 
In the centre of the room, in an easy chair placed 
directly between the two large French mirrors, re- 
clines Ravenna in the deepest of deep neglige. 
May we describe it.? Why not.? Well! She is 
dressed in naught but a richly embroidered lace 
chemise, that seemingly mocks all efforts to cover 
her charms of breast and neck; her little feet are 
bare; her long blonde hair is in the hands of her 


90 The Victim’s Triumph 

French maid, who is about to transform the silky 
strands into a charming coiffure. Countess Ivano- 
vitch enjoys that great pleasure of the true daugh- 
ter of Eve — namely, of being dressed. She had 
just stepped out of the bath, and throwing on her 
Lazo-Camisa has given herself up to the deft fingers 
of Louise. The Countess’s beautifully moulded, 
dimpled arms are resting in her lap, where her 
fingers are absent-mindedly punching tiny holes 
in her covering with one of the hair-pins she holds. 
Is there a woman who hasn’t done likewise.f^ Occa- 
sionally she looks up and contemplates her charm- 
ing image in the mirror or gives some directions. 
Her dark eyes are shining with unusual lustre. 
Finally the maid has completed her task, and the 
Countess rises too look at her coiffure. As she 
stands there, every curve of her lovely body clearly 
defined and emphasized by that tantalizing, cling- 
ing affair called Lazo-Camisa, she resembles a god- 
dess of beauty and passion; and we instinctively 
feel that Lord Brighton never had the suspicion of 
a chance to remain true to his resolution never to 
fall in love with a woman. But time flies; every 


The Victim's Triumph 91 

moment brings the portentious Hour nearer; so Che 
Countess proceeds with her toilet, which is soon 
completed. When Ravenna is ready she is truly 
beautiful enough to enrapture any one. The cos- 
tume she has chosen for to-night is an exquisite pale 
blue silk with a long train trimmed in rich Venetian 
lace. The maid herself cannot withhold her ad- 
miration, and exclaims : Madame looks exquise- 
merit, beautiful. Oh, la, la! 

This compliment pleases Countess Ivanovitch, 
who walked to the centre of her boudoir between 
the mirrors, where she could get a full view of 
herself ; looking at her own beautiful reflection, 
she stood there fully ten minutes — that is at Inter- 
vals, for from time to time she turned back a few 
steps, then sideways, then on again and measured 
the length of her long train. Here she paused a 
moment, gave a pinch to her waist with one hand, 
then with two hands, then raised these members — 
they were very white and pretty, with delicately 
tinted, highly polished nails — ^to the multifold 
braids of her hair with a caressing, half corrective 
movement. An observer might have fancied that 


92 The Victim's Triumph 

during those periods of self-inspection her face for- 
got its sadness, but as soon as she sat down again 
it began to proclaim that she was a very unhappy 
woman. 

Yes, Louise, you have done well to-night. I 
am more than pleased with the results. Perhaps 
I may take you with me back to Russia, if you 
care to go.” 

Oh, Louise, serais hien contente to go wiz 
Madame replied the maid with a bow. 

Well,” continued the Countess, “ you may go 
out to-night Louise. There are two tickets for 
the theatre in the little drawer of my escritoire, 
which were sent me and which I cannot use. You 
may take them and go to the play. But, if you 
go, you must hurry, for it is almost eight o’clock 
now. You may leave everything in here as it is 
and arrange it on your return. I shall be up late 
to-night and will not require your services any 
more.” And opening a small escritoire near the 
window Countess Ivanovitch took the tickets and 
gave them to Louise. You may go now,” she 
added. 


The Victim's Triumph 93 

Louise took the tickets and howed. “ Merely 
bien Madame, What hour does Madame desire 
Louise in zee morning? ” 

Not before ten o’clock. Now go.” 

Tres bien, Madame , and with another bow 
Louise disappeared. 

When the maid had gone, the Countess once 
more stood in front of her mirrors, where she slowly 
turned, giving every detail of her toilet a sweep- 
ing critical glance. She was evidently satisfied 
with herself, for a smile played about her lips. 

“ Thank heaven I am rid of Louise. She has 
an oily way of winding herself into one’s private 
affairs that I don’t fancy. But, after all, if she 
begins to know too much, why. I’ll find a nice 
little pretext to discharge her.” 

Had the Countess possessed occult power or the 
ability to listen to what her maid at that moment 
was saying to herself, she probably would have 
sought that pretext at once, for Louise had scarcely 
reached her own little room when she said : Ma- 
dame was anxious to see Louise go and haz brought 
ze ticket just for that purpose. Ah, la, la, eJi 


94 The VictMs Triumph 

hien! Never zeless, Louise will tell Monsieur 
Charles to go wiz her to zee Opera-Comique.'^^ A 
few moments later she had gone. 

Meanwhile Countess Ivanovitch had walked to 
the drawing-room where she took a graceful posi- 
tion in the corner of a black velvet-covered divan 
trimmed in gold, against which her pale blue gown 
contrasted to great advantage. She had scarcely 
done so when she was somewhat frightened by the 
sudden appearance of Nicholas, whose footsteps she 
failed to hear. 

He stopped upon the threshold and looked at 
her for a moment. Sister, you are looking sweet 
enough to eat.” 

“ Please don’t be so vulgar in your remarks ; it 
doesn’t sound well from you.” 

Oh, bosh, sister ! What’s slang for, if it isn’t 
to be used in the privacy of one’s family.^ Eh.^ But 
never mind, Ravenna, we haven’t time to talk about 
such trifles now. Time is precious, and I want to 
give you a sort of a final dress rehearsal before Lord 
Brighton arrives. Let’s see, what time is that 
bloody Englishman due.'^” 


The Victim s Triumph 95 

Nine o’clock sharp. He sent me a message to 
that effect this morning. But, Nicholas, what have 
you been doing all day in the library You can’t 
have that much writing to do.?^ ” 

Oh, never mind, dear ; I was making some 
drawings for my own pleasure,” he carelessly re- 
plied, avoiding her gaze. “ But let’s go to work. 
Now then, Ravenna, I want to advise you. This 
Lord Brighton is so much in love with you that he 
hasn’t got a grain of sense left. On the other 
hand, he is a very shrewd man, and an exceedingly 
suspicious one where women are concerned ; so I was 
informed. Nevertheless, I think you have got him 
where you want him, and I believe that you can 
clinch it to-night. Did you tell me he would pro- 
pose to-night ? ” 

‘‘No; and what is more, I can tell you that I 
never hated anything so much in all my life as I do 
this, for Lord Brighton is certainly in earnest and 
loves me with his whole heart and soul.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! Why are you suddenly get- 
ting sensitive at this stage of the game? Why 
not reproach me — d-e-a-r — abuse me — vilHfy me,” 


96 The Victim's Triumph 

he went on sneeringly. Perhaps I would feel 
better then. Why not tell me that you hate and 
despise me for bringing you here and trying to 
help you get a multi-millionaire for a husband, be- 
cause you wouldn’t believe it? I adore you, my 
dear sister; I am delighted to be here with you 
and of service to you; I am charmed with the 
glowing prospects.” 

No, Nicholas ; but I am afraid that all this 
will end badly some day. I feel it; I can’t help 
it.” 

Nicholas’s face grew dark and stern at these 
words, and a sardonic expression distorted his lips. 
Walking over to the Countess he said in a fierce, 
commanding voice: Don’t anger me, Ravenna. 
Don’t act the fool. There is no backing out of 
this. Do you hear? ” and he seized her wrist so 
fiercely that she almost shrieked with pain. At 
the same time he bent down and peered straight 
into her eyes with a look so fierce and threatening 
that she couldn’t utter a word. Continuing, while 
still holding her wrist in a vice-like grip, he said 
slowly and commandingly : Don’t you dare to 


The Victim's Triumph 97 

refuse Lord Brighton! Do you hear me? Re- 
member that you are twenty-six and that you are 
an outcast, penniless only for what I choose to give 
you.” 

“ No, Nicholas, I won’t,” in a terror-stricken 
\oice, was all the trembling girl could say as he 
left the room. 

For a few minutes after he had gone Ravenna 
remained motionless, as if plunged in deep thought. 
Her beautiful face bore an expression of profound 
anguish mingled with terror. Her lovely eyes were 
moist with suppressed emotion. What was there 
between these two people ; what terrible secret bound 
them together? What strange, powerful influence 
did this young nobleman wield over her? Was it 
hypotic influence, or simply the domination of a 
powerful will adroitly exercised over one less 
strong? Could it be crime that bound them to- 
gether, or was it — could it be — love? Was it not 
strange that this lovely woman, herself of a strong 
independent mind, an individuality that fully as- 
serted itself when away from Nicholas, should 
quail and show complete subjection to his presence? 

7 


98 The Victim s Triumph 

The Countess suddenly rose, and after nervously 
pacing back and forth in the room a few times 
walked over to the centre window and looked out 
upon the desolate park now covered with snow. 
She sighed deeply. There is winter in my heart ; 
desolation and loneliness. Oh, what would I give 
to have never seen him! But after all I have a 
chance, it comes to-night. Yes, I must grasp that 
opportunity, for it is my only salvation, and the 
like may never present itself again. If I succeed — 
ah, if I succeed, then, Baron Nicholas, you and 
1 will have a day of reckoning; for I will confess 
all — all, regardless of consequence. I will relieve 
my heart, my conscience. I will throw myself upon 
his mercy. I am beautiful, I know it; I have 
power over men — poor weak men, who are, one and 
all, slaves of their passions. Yes, he loves me, I 
know. Loves me deeply and truly, and will help 
me throw off the yoke of infamy.” Thus solilo- 
quized the beautiful woman while awaiting Lord 
Brighton’s call. 

Lord Brighton during the past four weeks had 
been in constant attendance upon Ravenna. In 


The Victim's Triumph 99 

fact, he was a changed man since he had met her, 
and from a cold, unfeeling skeptic, in so far as 
women were concerned, had become a perfect cava- 
lier. Nor had he been slow in taking advantage 
of her permission to call; for he was a frequent 
visitor at her apartments, and when not there was 
sure to be seen in her company speeding through 
the park behind his trotter; so that rumor soon 
coupled their names. Each day Ravenna received 
a bouquet of choice flowers, and each time Lord 
Brighton called he became more assiduous in his 
devotion. Evidently he was in love — not in the 
ordinary sense, but in the absolute, all-absorbing 
fashion of a man whose life is a blank without the 
woman of his choice, and who will move the uni- 
verse to possess that woman. Some bright mind 
has said that love is a mental disease, curable only 
by the reciprocity of the affection of the one who 
has caused it. If this be true Lord Brighton was 
certainly so afflicted. At any rate it became quite 
obvious that the deep affection he had formed for 
Ravenna improved him greatly; so much so that 
even his friends marvelled at it, while Bob and 


L.ofC. 


100 The Victim s Triumph 

Chauncey never ceased teasing him, and remind- 
ing him of how he had vowed never to be impressed 
by any woman that night at the club. His lord- 
ship, feeling himself caught red-handed, so to 
speak, finally gave in, and during a supper he gave 
to his friends took opportunity to lustily toast to 
the only peerless woman. As to Ravenna, her senti- 
ments toward him had undergone some marked 
change since she had first agreed to receive him as 
friend and associate, until she finally found that he 
had won her respect and admiration. To-night 
she blushed nervously when the bell rang, took a 
hasty survey of herself in the mirror, and, as Lord 
Brighton was ushered into the drawing-room, she 
met him with outstretched hands. He was fault- 
lessly attired, but pale to the very roots of his multi- 
colored hair, as he kissed the hand Ravenna offered 
him. Lord Brighton had completely lost his for- 
mer somewhat overbearing, money-proud demeanor. 
He seemed frightened at the violence of his own 
emotions in her presence. In truth we cannot blame 
him. Countess Ivanovitch, now perfectly com- 
posed, looked tantalizingly beautiful, as she grace- 


The Victim's Triumiph 101 

fully reclined upon the divan, her lovely shoulders 
but partly draped by a diaphanous lace-shawl that 
seemed unwilling to cover their snowy whiteness. 
Her shapely hands were toying with a tiny gold 
chain suspended from her corsage. In her velvet 
ej^es there lurked a bewitching languor. 

“ How are you, Lord Brighton ? ” 

“ Very well indeed, thank you. Countess,” he 
replied in a trembling voice as he accepted the seat 
she offered him beside her upon the divan.” 

“ It must be a disagreeable evening out, your 
hands are quite cold despite your heavy gloves,” 
she sweetl}’^ commented, as her soft little hands 
rested for a moment in his. 

Oh, I did not feel or mind the temperature, 
my dear Countess, for though my hands were cold 
my heart was palpitating with warmth, and my 
thoughts aglow with the sense of being in your 
company.” 

There, you are flattering again. Lord Brigh- 
ton,” and she took a small Japanese fan of dainty 
grace, which hung suspended from her waist by 
a golden chain, and tantalizingly tapped him upon 


102 The Victim's Triumph 

the arm, while she gave him a look so full of warm 
compassion that he trembled with agitation. 

Perhaps so, Countess, perhaps so,” he repeated, 
as if in a dream. Then he got up and quickly 
paced back and forth a few times, as if trying to 
compose himself or brace himself for some por- 
tentous resolution; while she, under the guise of 
fanning herself, sat watching him through the fine 
ebony network of the fan; for, though her appear- 
ance did not indicate it, she knew with absolute 
certainty that Lord Brighton had reached the criti- 
cal period in his life and was about to declare his 
love for her; the acceptance or refusal of which 
would mean, to a man of his peculiar characteris- 
tics, either happiness or utter ruin. She was now 
fully prepared and had her plans made. She sat 
still, watching the man whose face was ashen with 
emotion until he suddenly stopped directly in front 
of her, and in a tremulous voice said: 

Countess, have you ever been in love.^ ” 

Oh ! Lord Brighton ! that’s rather a leading 
question, don’t you think ” 

Perhaps it is; but answer it, will you please ” 


The Victim's Triumph 103 

Well, yes. Lord Brighton, I thought I was in 
love once, only to find that it was merely a fancy — 
one of these ephemeral afflictions of the heart that 
vanish with the change of day. The real sentiment 
of love, la grande passion as it is called, in all its 
intensity I have, as yet, never known; and, to be 
exact, Fm afraid of it, for I fear that if I ever 
love, it will, to me, mean life or death, heaven or 
hades, paradise or inferno; and should I find, as 
others have found, that I had placed my heart’s 
affection upon a worthless object, what then. Lord 
Brighton.'^ ” 

Countess, you could not do that. You are too 
sensible a woman ever to make such a mistake or 
fail to recognize the tender passion where it really 
exists.” 

Yes, I think I would be able to judge correctly. 
Lord Brighton.” 

Then, Countess, let me confess to you that I 
love you dearly, madly, and,” he added, seizing her 
hand and trembling with emotion, “ that I respect- 
fully crave the honor of your hand.” 

Why, Lord Brighton ! ” Ravenna withdrew 
her hand with a gesture of surprise. 


104 The Victim's Triumph 

Oh, do not feel surprised at this, Countess. It 
is but natural that I should lose my heart to you 
when all others have done so. You do not know 
me. You cannot know the depth and intensity of 
feeling that underlies my nature, which outwardly 
may seem cold and unfeeling.” 

But, Lord Brighton, we have known each other 
but one short month.” 

I know,” interrupted Lord Brighton, some- 
what embarrassed, but what of that? ” 

‘‘ You confuse me. Lor ” 

Oh, do not interrupt me, I pray you. Countess. 
Let me tell you what my heart feels ; let me tell you 
what a revelation you have been to me. True, I 
know you but a few short weeks; but even so, love 
knows no time, no restrictions, no judgment. It 
is blind ; it follows but the promptings of the heart. 
Countess, listen to me. I am not a handsome man, 
and I know it — and perhaps I am unworthy of you, 
who are grand, and noble, and beautiful. And yet, 
I feel within my heart that life without you is noth- 
ing to me henceforth — that my existence will be 
void without the sunshine that you alone can bestow 


The Victim's Triumph 105 

upon it. I have been called a cynic, a woman- 
hater, a skeptic, by my friends, and somewhat of 
all these I have been until I met you ; then. Count- 
ess, for the first time in all my life, I knew what 
love was; knew that I would not care to live with- 
out you; that I had met my fate.” 

You cannot know what you are saying. Lord 
Brighton,” she here broke in with well-feigned dis- 
tress.” 

Oh, yes, I do ; believe me, I am sincere, abso- 
lutely so — you know I am. I am not seeking 
wealth. I have plenty of that. I am a rich man ; 
money is no object to me. I seek happiness, and 
1 know that you alone can bestow it ; besides, I feel 
that I could make you happy. It would be my 
life’s object to do so. No one knows better than I 
the power of wealth, yet I would gladly part from 
it all, if by doing so I could win your love; and,” 
he continued, with a gesture of entreaty, should 
you desire it, my wealth, all I have, is yours. I 
ask nothing in return but your love.” 

Had Lord Brighton been less madly in love he 
might have learned something more about the 


106 The Victim's Triumph 

power of money, for the effect the latter part of 
his ardent speech produced upon the lady was 
certainly up to modern ideas. He likewise might 
have noticed — had he not been blinded by the in- 
tensity of his feelings — that the portieres near 
which they sat trembled perceptibly, as if some one 
hidden there had clutched them for support upon 
hearing his generous offer. Alas, Lord Brighton 
saw neither. He saw nothing but that beautiful, 
betwitching creature before him, with her lovely 
face and voluptuous arms and shoulders, radiant 
in their snowy whiteness beneath the electric light. 
When the Countess suddenly stopped fanning her- 
self and became all attention, when the indifferent, 
somewhat bored expression in her beautiful eyes 
changed to one of warm sympathy and interest, he, 
with the selfishness peculiar to his sex, interpreted 
all this in his favor. He continued with renewed 
ardor : 

“ Yes, Countess, I confess that I have prided 
myself upon my immunity from love. In fact, I 
asked to be introduced to you merely to show my 
friends that even you could not impress me. Be- 


The Vtctirris Triumph 107 

hold me at your feet, your humble slave, asking 
mercy ! ” And in the intensity of his passion Lord 
Brighton dropped upon his knees before the Count- 
ess, and seizing her hands looked into her face with 
such earnest entreaty that she instinctively felt that 
he was sincere. Lord Brighton was never an ill- 
favored man, and all that was ordinarily harsh and 
offensive in his nature had disappeared under the 
refining influence of this profound affection. Be- 
sides, Countess Ivanovitch, aside from her appre- 
ciation of him, was too much woman not to feel a 
certain vanity and pride at seeing this proud and 
dominating man at her feet. Therefore, it was not 
without a touch of tenderness that she said : “ Lord 
Brighton, the suddenness and intensity of your 
confession has somewhat unnerved me, and I feel 
hardly able to consider your proposal with the calm- 
ness of mind and heart it deserves. Will you ac- 
cord me the time to reflect — to recover my com- 
posure ? ” 

Countess, it is but just that you should ask 
this; and it would be base on my part were I to 
ask more; yet, at the risk of incurring your great 


108 The Victim's Triumph 

displeasure, I beg of you to tell me now that you 
do not dislike me or reject me altogether. If you 
will do that, Countess, you will make me unspeak- 
ably happy, and will enable me to await your final 
answer with less — Well.f^ ” 

Although her mind was fully made up as to her 
final reply. Countess Ivanovitch was far too clever 
a woman to permit Lord Brighton to win an easy 
victory. She therefore replied: 

What can I say ? I have known you scarcely 
a month, during which I have had some little op- 
portunity to learn your character. I am happy 
to say that there is nothing known to me now that 
causes me to believe you otherwise than a man of 
honor and exalted principles, which belief I hope 
my brother will share with me. Your confession 
of love for me and offer of marriage honor me 
greatly, and there is in your avow^al that which 
denotes absolute sincerity. I thank you. I will 
add that your conduct towards me compels my re- 
spect, my friendship. I have freely given you the 
latter. Whether or not I can be more to you. Lord 
Brighton, permit me to decide with my own con- 


The Victim’' s Triumph 109 

science. Give me one week to consider your offer. 
It is the first favor I ask of your friendship. Will 
you grant it.^ ” 

These words were spoken with such sweet 
womanly dignity that Lord Brighton, though fe- 
verishly eager to know his fate, could only acqui- 
esce. He got up, bowed profoundly, then passion- 
ately kissed her hand, and said : In one week from 
to-day I shall know my fate. Adieu, Countess, 
until then,” and bowing low again he left her. 

For a few minutes after he had gone she sat 
motionless, burled in deep thought. Then she 
sighed deeply, adjusted her shawl about her shoul- 
ders and was about to leave the room when her 
brother Nicholas stepped from behind the portieres. 
At sight of him Ravenna started perceptibly and 
began to tremble, which brought a ripple of satis- 
faction to his face. Oh, don’t be frightened, 
dear,” he remarked in his most persuasive tone. 
“ You didn’t know I was there.? ” and he pointed 
to the heavy double portieres that separated the 
drawing-room from the ante-room. Did you.?” 

No, I didn’t, Nicholas, I am sure.” 


110 The Victim's Triumph 

Well, I was, and I heard every word Brighton 
said. Oh, say. Sis, he’s a bird, a darling, a won- 
derful catch! Ah!” he exclaimed, seeing the 
costly bracelet she wore, what a beauty ! Let 
me see, I believe we could get a couple of thousands 
on it in an emergency, don’t you.?^ ” 

We will never pawn that bracelet. Never ! ” 
Never! Eh.^ ” he replied, somewhat vexed. 

Little sister is getting spunky now since she has 
Lord Oliver Brighton, of London, England, for 
a suitor. But all nonsense aside, you’re doing 
finely, splendidly, I must say that. Few girls could 
excel you. I am proud of my pupil,” and gently 
stroking her hair, he endeavored to kiss her. 

“ Don’t, Nicholas, I have a sore throat. You 
had better not kiss me.” 

“ Well, I will kiss your forehead then,” he de- 
clared, with a smile. 

If Ravenna was formerly responsive to his ca- 
resses, she now displayed no outward joy at his 
contact. 

Look here, Nicholas,” she said in an icy tone, 

I am getting heartily tired of this, and the sooner 


The Victim's Triumph 111 

you know it the better.” With these words, for the 
first time in her life, she lifted her magnificent eyes 
to his and looked him squarely in the face. 

Nicholas at first was speechless with astonish- 
ment and rage, but like all true cowards at heart he 
quailed before her gaze the very first time that she, 
whom he had heretofore completely controlled, op- 
posed him; hence it was not without any outward 
sign of anger but with a hypocritical suavity of 
manner that he now replied: “You say you are 
tired of this, dear. Why.^ Aren’t we making 
money enough? Haven’t we found an easy mark? 
Have we not a vast fortune almost within reach in 
your fiance^ Lord Brighton? Besides, Ravenna, 
dear,” he added, endeavoring to embrace her, “ you 
know I love you dearly.” 

“ I don’t ! ” she promptly replied, as she gently 
but firmly repulsed him. “ And what is more, I 
know that you don’t. Do you mean to tell me that 
you can love me, and then deliberately place me in 
the way of men for mercenary purposes? Is it 
natural, logical, reasonable? Does a man who 
loves a woman sell her affection to other men for 


112 The Victim's Triumph 

gain? If it be love to stand behind that portiere 
and hear me promise a man to be his wife, then, 
merciful God, what is love ? ” 

“ Love, Ravenna, is nothing nowadays without 
money. I have no money. You have none. We 
both need money; not a paltry few thousands, 
either, but lots of it, dear; lots of it. Once we 
get a good big pile we will quit all this nonsense, 
and go to some foreign land where we are strangers, 
and can live happily and contentedly all for our- 
selves,” and he pulled the struggling girl to his 
breast. 

She disengaged herself and sadly shook her head. 
“ Nicholas,” she said, I wish I could live the past 
years over again. You know it well enough. I 
once loved you dearly — but blindly. I have en- 
tered into all your schemes and adventures willingly, 
voluntarily, thinking that — as long as they were 
not criminal in nature — they were permissible in 
these days of eternal strife and struggle for su- 
premacy, where only the fittest survive. But, alas ! 
there is no real happiness in a life of perfidy and 
adventure. I fear, Nicholas, my love for you is 


The Victim's Triumph 113 

dead; for I have discovered that the affection you 
had had for me was not love. Would that you 
had remained an honest man! Oh, gladly would 
I have shared your poverty in the humblest cabin 
and remained honest rather than live this life of 
gilded misery and adventure,” and she burst into 
a flood of tears. 

Nicholas was a polished rascal and an educated 
villain of the blackest kind, therefore he never 
wavered from his purpose, even when he saw this 
poor girl, whose great beauty and sweetness he had 
systematically tried to drag down to his own 
level, bitterly weeping. He had used her gifts and 
graces as bait for the furtherance of his own ne- 
farious schemes. Her tears of genuine regret did 
not move him ; his heart never softened toward her ; 
and if ever he had claimed to love her, it was at 
this moment, evident that his affections were dead. 
It was without the slightest feeling that he now 
said : Don’t waste your tears, but listen to me.” 

It is useless, Nicholas, my heart is too full of 
sorrow. I feel that it is too late. You know that 
I once loved you. I gave up all for you. I sev- 
8 


114 The Victim's Triumph 

ered the ties of family, dear ones and friends to 
follow the promptings of my heart which drew 
me toward you. I was a good, right-minded 
woman, incapable of wilfully wronging any one. I 
trusted you, thinking that with your great intel- 
lect, your manners and your personality it would 
be easy for you to earn an ample livelihood for us 
both. It never entered my mind that you — you 
could ask me to do things that were — if not down- 
right dishonest, at least dishonorable. Yet, in con- 
tradiction to all honor and principle, you have used 
my affection for you to drag me through the mire; 
used my beauty as a bait for the realization of 
your daring schemes. I believed you each time 
you said that this would be your last scheme. And 
though I had not as yet done the worst, the enor- 
nity of it all came over me to-night, when your 
thirst for money made you lose all self-respect, dig- 
nity and manhood, and caused you to sell me for 
gain. All you have ever done to me I have freely 
forgiven — blaming no one but myself — ^but this 
last indignity has killed the last spark of affection 
I once bore you. You who, above all others, should 


The Victim's Triumph 115 

have been my protector, if only from a sense of 
honor and manhood, stood behind yonder curtain 
and listened to what Lord Brighton said to me, 
knowing that he means honorable marriage. What 
mother could it have been that nourished such a 
moral leper as you? Do you think that you can 
degrade me still further by leading this man on to 
destruction through me, your accomplice ? ^^ As she 
spoke the loathsomeness of her situation seemed to 
overwhelm her with all its horrors. As she finished 
she looked the veritable queen of outraged dignity. 

No,” she continued, stepping somewhat closer to 
him, who now began to cower before her tower- 
ing figure and blazing eyes. No, I will no longer 
be the creature that you would have me be. I re- 
fuse to lead a life of shame at your bidding and 
for your gain. Death itself I would prefer to 
such indignity. I shall marry Lord Brighton, and 
I shall be a true wife to him. Nicholas, you and I 
must part for ever — now, or as soon as possible. 
I wish you no harm, for though I loathe you now, 
I cannot forget what you have been to me ih the 
past. Nor will I let you want for anything as 


116 The Victim's Triumph 

long as I have it. I shall ask my future husband 
for a large sum of money, which I will place to 
your credit, so that you may have a certain monthly 
stipend that will enable you to live. Do not de- 
lude yourself, Nicholas, in thinking that you can 
hurt me or ruin my prospects of marrying Lord 
Brighton, for by telling him the past — your past, 
our past — you will simply undermine your own 
future, which I think you will not do. For de- 
cency’s sake, and our future peace of mind, let us 
preserve appearances before the servants. And 
now, good-night.” With these words Countess 
Ivanovitch passed in front of him with the dignity 
of a queen, entered her own boudoir, the key to 
which was distinctly heard turning in the lock. 

Nicholas was at first speechless from surprise, 
then he turned white with fury and gave himself 
up to a rage that almost smothered him. He 
paced up and down in the drawing-room like an 
enraged lion. He brought his fist down heavily on 
the table. He seized the draperies that covered the 
doors and tore them down, swept the bric-a-brac 
from the mantelpiece, and then he jumped upon the 


The Victim's Triumph 117 

divan Ravenna had occupied and stamped upon it 
like a wild beast. “ Oh, damn the women ; damn 
her ! ” he exclaimed. “ They are all alike. But 
wait, I still have a chance. There’s that Cameron 
girl. She’s got a lot of coin, and I believe that it 
wouldn’t be hard to take her away from Chauncey 
Lamont. At any rate I’ll try. ’Twould never do 
for me to remain here, for she will marry Lord 
Brighton, and I — am fired ! ” Saying which he 
gave a hoarse, diabolical laugh and walked out. 


CHAPTER V 


FALSE, BUT FAITHFUL 

HAUNCEY and Beatrice Cameron had 
agreed to wed when the latter would reach 
her twenty-third birthday — the time ap- 
proved by her father for a matrimonial plunge. 
But Chauncey, like the queer, impetuous boy he 
was, during his daily calls upon Miss Cameron had 
pleaded his cause so successfully and so well that 
Beatrice one day consented to take a sleigh ride 
with him through Jersey. Now, it must be ad- 
mitted that though many queer things happen in 
Jersey, there was nothing especially remarkable in 
the fact that these two lovers should want to carry 
their young happiness to the home of marshes, 
meadows and mosquitoes. Nor is it claimed here 
that either Beatrice or Chauncey had the slightest 
intention of entering matrimony on the rapid tran- 
sit plan. 

It must not be implied by any manner of means 



The Victim's Triumph 119 

that Chauncey and Beatrice simply eloped and got 
married. Nay! Far be it from us to even whis- 
per such a thing. Yet, when Chauncey and Bea- 
trice did return to civilization from the Jersey 
jungles they were Mr. and Mrs. Chauncey Lamont, 
and ready for papa Cameron’s benediction. The 
peculiar part of the whole affair, however, was that 
they really did marry after the comedy of errors 
which preceded the event. 

The day was one of those beautiful, clear winter 
days such as you read about in books. The snow 
couldn’t possibly be whiter, or in a better condition 
for sleighing. Chauncey, who owned a fine cutter 
and a fast horse, had them brought over to the 
Jersey side, where the rig was awaiting them, about 
nine that morning. Beatrice and Chauncey both 
were in gay spirits and warmly dressed. They 
started from Jersey City intending to go as far as 
Westwood to see some friends and return by moon- 
light. Beatrice felt in such high good humor as 
they flew along the smooth country road behind 
Chauncey ’s fast trotter, with the bells merrily 
jingling in the clear morning air, that she wanted 


120 The Victim's Triumph 

to shout; but this being somewhat bad taste for a 
well-bred girl, she contented herself by tickling and 
pinching her fiance, who having his hands full 
with the horse could only retaliate by tickling her 
shell-like little ears with the points of his mustache. 
Every few minutes the tickling was repeated, until 
he, unmindful of the reins, let them slip from his 
grasp. Suddenly the horse bolted, then reared 
upon his hind legs, plunged forward with a spring, 
and away he flew, dragging the sleigh and its oc- 
cupants through the country in mad flight ; bounc- 
ing and scratching, bumping and jingling discord- 
antly upon its invisible runners. Beatrice, now 
with a terrified face, clung frantically to the coat 
sleeve of her lover. “ Heavenly powers ! ” she mur- 
mured. Where are we going? ” Chauncey, be- 
wildered by the unlooked-for situation, snatched 
Beatrice in his arms and was about to spring from 
the flying vehicle when, with a loud shriek, she 
cried, Look there ! ” The maddened animal had 
now reached a bend in the road, the sleigh careened, 
and the two found themselves spilled out and en- 
gulfed in a large snow bank. Extreme surprise for 


The Victim's Triumph 121 

a moment kept them sitting still. What a picture ! 
When they did pick themselves out of the engulf- 
ment they looked a very ill-pleased couple, and in- 
deed in what met their eyes there was little to be 
pleased with. Their hats slouched down over their 
faces, as if protecting them from the road, while 
on the other side a group of Jerseyites were cir- 
cling about them in the liquid snow. As Beatrice 
looked at the really comical figure of Chauncey she 
thought him the ugliest thing she had ever seen. 
It threw her into a state of irritation that was quite 
out of proportion to her humorous, tickling mood 
of only a short while ago. She pressed her hands 
to her eyes to shut out the sight. It’s too hor- 
rible ! I shall go back, I shall go back ! ” Chaun- 
cey held out his hand to assist Beatrice and help 
her back into the sleigh again. While so doing his 
tongue was gently moving along his upper lip 
good-naturedly. “ You are Irritating,” said Bea- 
trice angrily. This is the darkest day of my 
life.” 

The young man gave a clear, fresh laugh. “ It 
was you, dear, who proposed this ride.” 


122 The Victim's Triumph 

She turned her head with a jerk and gave him 
an arctic stare. 

If you like, I will take the blame,” he said, as 
he gave his joyous laugh again. If I had not 
been convinced that you wanted a sleigh ride I 
should never have taken the risk of bringing you 
to this dreadful country.” 

This comical country, this delightful country,” 
supplemented Beatrice; and they both broke into 
the most animated laughter as he scrambled in be- 
side her, and off they flew. Nor were they the 
only couple sleighing, for many a pink-cheeked 
country lass in company of her steady ” flew by, 
and many a swell sleighing outfit, loaded to the 
gunwales with bundled up society folks, went past, 
laughing, singing and having a merry time. Good 
sleighing is a rare sport, consequently all who could 
get hold of a sleigh took advantage of it. With 
Beatrice and Chauncey everything went famously. 
They stopped at Hackensack, where they dined 
and wined to some extent. After dinner, while Bea- 
trice was fixing her hair, Chauncey excused him- 
self for half an hour while he went to see an ac- 


The Victim's Triumph 123 

quaintance. This done, he returned to the hotel 
T9 here he had left Beatrice, and they drove on as 
far as WestTrood, where they called upon some 
friends, who entertained the young couple royally. 
Quite late they started for home. They had had a 
jolly time, and as their horse trotted along the 
quiet country road, the moon shining brightly down 
upon them, Chauncey handed Beatrice the reins 
and asked her to try her hand at driving while he 
would warm his own hands a bit. In reality his 
hands stole softly about his sweetheart’s waist, as 
he asked: Beatrice, are you happy 

Why shouldn’t I be, Chauncey? Am I not 
with you ? ” And she puckered up her little mouth 
for a kiss, which he dutifully deposited thereon. 

But, Chauncey,” continued Beatrice, when the 
echo of the kiss had died away midst the hills of 
New Jersey, don’t you think it is getting very 
late^ — and cold? ” 

“ Why, yes, darling, of course it is,” he eagerly 
replied. “ I think we had better stop over at Hack- 
ensack to-night, darling, and go back in the morn- 
ing.” 


124 The Victim's Triumph 

Why, no, Chauncey! How about papa? He 
would be awfully worried over my not being home 

all night; besides ” 

Oh, that’s the least consideration,” confidently 
replied Chauncey. I’ll telephone him when we 

reach Hackensack.” 

And so they agreed that they would stop over at 
Hackensack and return home in the morning. They 
reached Hackensack about nine o’clock and went 
to the best hotel, where they were assigned to two 
rooms — numbers five on the second and on the 
third floor. Beatrice, feeling fatigued, after sup- 
per bade her sweetheart good-night and went to 
her room, while he went to telephone and see that 
his horse received proper attention. 

Meanwhile Beatrice had reached room number 
five on the second floor. After carefully bolting the 
door, she, womanlike, took a look around. The 
room she found herself in appeared to be about the 
best the hotel contained — in fact, it looked to Bea- 
trice like a bridal-chamber. It was a large apart- 
ment, furnished in pale-blue flowered cretonne 
throughout, with an adjoining ante-room, wherein 


The Victim's Triumph 125 

stood a large bed with beautiful brass fittings and 
a large pale blue tester. One corner of the front 
room was cut off by a pale blue screen of rural 
design, behind which was an elegant dresser and 
toilet table. In the centre stood a fine mahogany 
table with books, magazines and stationery, the 
latter bearing two pale blue doves in the corner. 
There was a telephone, a speaking tube and a call- 
bell near the door. For a moment Beatrice stood 
lost in thought. Surely,” she finally exclaimed, 
“ this is the bridal-chamber, but why ? Could it 
be Chauncey’s work.^ ’Twould be just like him. 
Nevertheless, he is a little bit — ” and she gave a 
sweet smile that spoke volumes. ‘‘ Any way, I 
am going to ask him about it to-morrow, and if 
that impudent hotel clerk took it upon himself to 
take me for a bride, I’ll have Chauncey just lecture 
him good and hard. They say hotel clerks know 
bridal couples a mile off.” Hanging up her long 
coat Beatrice now began to disrobe. I think I 
shall take a hot bath before going to bed, I am all 
stiff with cold, and that awful head-end collision 
with Squire Hopkins’s snow bank,” she soliloquized, 


126 The Victinis Triumph 

throwing down her large hat. Then she deftly 
removed a handful of hairpins and other hardware 
from her hair, causing it to fall in blonde profu- 
sion over her well-rounded shoulders. Carefully 
selecting all the longer part of the blonde profu- 
sion, her pretty fingers softly stole beneath its 
silken meshes, a small string was removed, there 
was a slight tug, and — the switch was hers! A 
moment later her beautiful pompadour gave up 
two nice yellow rats, which joined the aforesaid 
switch upon the dresser. Whereupon Beatrice, after 
removing a few layers of her remarkable com- 
plexion took off her bodice, and — while a hush fell 
upon the atmosphere — removed a part of her lovely 
form in the shape of a pair of bust-forms — filled 
with aching void. Next came a set of false hips 
and a bustle, all of which she, like an orderly girl, 
put upon the dresser behind the screen. Then 
Beatrice lightly, gaily tripped over to the wash- 
stand and poured out some water. This done, she 
put two of her shapely little digits into her rose- 
bud mouth. There was a gurgling sound as of 
some rippling brook, and she carefully dropped a 


The Victim's Triumph 127 

partial set of artificial teeth into the transparent 
liquid. A sense of relief overspread the fair girl’s 
face as she now continued disrobing. “ Thank 
heaven ! ” she exclaimed. “ I feel more like my- 
self now.” And can the gentle reader doubt it? 
When Beatrice had reached that stage of dress, or 
rather undress, where there is nothing left to de- 
scribe, she exclaimed : “ Great heavens ! Here I 
want to take a bath and haven’t a kimono or any- 
thing to put on. Oh, I know. I’ll put on my long 
coat ! ” This done, she carefully opened her door 
and listened out into the hall. Not a sound could 
be heard. Yes, she could risk it ! The bath-room 
was only one flight up. 

There was a noise like the flapping of wings, and 
she had disappeared. 

Chauncey, meanwhile, had duly informed papa 
Cameron by long-distance ’phone that Beatrice 
w^ould stop over at Hackensack that night and 
would be back in the morning, giving as the only 
reason his fear that the cold night air and wind 
might be too much for the dear girl. Here’s where 
Chauncey, like all lovers, was a strategist, for he 


128 The Victim" s Triumph 

knew that nothing in the world could raise him 
higher in the estimation of the old general than this 
apparent tender solicitude for his only daughter. 
Thus Chauncey got a very pleasant reply. This 
done, he, rather fatigued and with the knowledge 
of a solemn duty nobly performed, returned to the 
hotel, walked to the desk and got the key to his 
room, which was number five. What floor, 
please? ” he curtly asked the clerk, who sang out. 
Second floor.” 

Chauncey, being deeply in love, hence at peace 
with papa Cameron, himself and the world at large, 
lit a fresh cigar and slowly ascended to the second 
floor, where he soon located number five. Finding 
the door unlocked, he put his key in his coat pocket 
and walked in. Ah,” he exclaimed, somebody 
lit the light for me. How kind ! ” When he saw 
the pale blue furniture. What’s this ? Looks 
like the bridal-chamber. Bless my soul, I believe 
it is ! What in the name of Sam Henderson made 
that hotel clerk think it? I don’t remember acting 
the fool or holding Beatrice’s hand when we came 
into this hotel. These hotel clerks are altogether 


The Victim's Triumph 129 

too fresh. Wonder if sweetheart upstairs had any- 
thing to do with it. Hardly. Any way. I’ll ask 
her in the morning; and if I find that it was the 
work of that grinning idiot downstairs — Oh, I’ll 
give him a call down to-morrow that he won’t for- 
get for a time. I thought he had a funny smile on 
his face when I came up. Any way, I am in the 
bridal-chamber, I believe, and if it is somewhat 
previous, what of it? It gives me a chance to re- 
hearse. So here goes.” Saying which he began 
to remove his overcoat, vest, collar, cravat and 
waistcoat. When he got that far, he carefully un- 
tied the strings of a corset — man’s corset as it is 
called, such as is worn by the German army officers, 
who are fastidious about their waist-line. This he 
hung upon the screen. Then he got to his trousers 
and underwear. Here he paused again, shook his 
head and said : “ It’s a shame, a monumental shame, 
if I have to say it myself, to deceive dear, sweet 
Beatrice like this. But I love her; yes, I do, and 
I will be good and kind to her. I ought to be. A 
beautiful girl like her, with a form like a Venus, 
marrying a bald-headed old chappie like me. But 
9 


180 The Victim's Triumph 

then, all is fair in love and war.” With these 
words he softly lifted something from his head, 
which proved a remarkably well made toupe, so per- 
fect in fact that it was practically impossible to 
distinguish it from the natural growth. He looked 
at it a moment and sighed. I would gladly give 
all of father’s money if I could exchange that 
dummy for the real thing to-night. But, after all,” 
he added, it’s been a good scalp if it is artificial ; 
besides, I shall look like an oasis in the desert 
among the bald heads in the front row while I have 
it on,” as he caressingly patted the hairy roof of 
his dome of thought. 

With these words Chauncey took the hairy won- 
der and carefully, lovingly, hung it upon the cor- 
ner of the screen. His clothing he put away in 
one of the two wardrobes in the bedroom ; his 
shoes under the bed. Then he turned out the gas, 
pulled the portieres between the sitting and bed- 
room, went over to the bed, dropped in, and a few 
minutes later was sound asleep. For ten minutes 
nothing disturbed the serenity of the sleeping 
hotel, where the majority of guests turned in at 


The Victim's Triumph 131 

nine p. m. and rose at six a. m. Suddenly a door 
on the third floor was carefully opened, and a 
woman’s head all done up in papers peeped out. 
’Twas Beatrice, fresh from the bath, who now care- 
fully looked up and down the silent hall. Then 
she hurried by, noiselessly slipped downstairs to the 
second floor and into her room. Ah, saved ! 
Why, somebody turned out the gas ! ” she ex- 
claimed, flnding the room in darkness. “ The very 
idea! But then I suppose that is the rule of the 
hotel. The chambermaid or porter probably made 
the rounds, saw the light and turned it out. I 
wonder where the matches are. Oh, yes, there was 
a box of matches on the table.” And feeling over 
the table in the dark she soon found them, struck one 
and relit the gas. When the room was once more 
lit up she was about to remove her coat and retire, 
when her eyes fell upon the corset hanging over 
the screen. For heaven’s sake, did I leave my 
corset hanging up there for an advertisement.? I 
am getting awfully thoughtless. ’Twould never 
do to let the chambermaid see those empty affairs 
when she comes to look after the Are in the morn- 


132 The Victim s Triumph 

ing, for she would be delighted to tell every woman 
in the house about the little there was to the bride, 
Saying this, she walked over, picked up the corset 
and was about to throw it over the screen when she 
thought it felt rather strange and held it up to 
the light. The moment she looked at it closely 
she dropped it and rubbed her eyes. “ What is 
this.^ Am I dreaming.^ Or does a hot Jersey 
bath produce hallucinations ? ” Again she picked 
up the corset. Looks like mine,” examining the 
maker’s name. P. D., that’s the make I wear. 
Straight front, no hips, three hooks, French style. 
But where are the busts It’s perfectly flat — flat 
as a pancake. Perhaps I am half asleep. Wait ! ” 
and she covered her eyes with her hand for a mo- 
ment and then removed them. Yes, it’s a corset. 
But there’s something wrong somewhere. Surely 
there is.” Dropping the corset she walked over 
toward the other side of the screen to see whether 
her corset was there. As she did so she brushed 
against something suspended therefrom. Like a 
bat it fluttered as it gracefully settled down upon 
the floor, where it lay still. What is this.?^ ” She 


The Victim's Triumph 133 

\valked over hesitatingly, looked at it and uttered 
a cry. “ Murder ! Police ! Somebody has been 
murdered here ! The top of a human head ! ” She 
was pale to the very roots of her curl-papers, and 
was about to scream again when there was a sud- 
den commotion behind her, and turning around she 
beheld, sticking out of the portieres, the astonished 
face and highly-polished bald head of her fiance, 
half asleep and with not a hair in sight except in 
his mustache, the ends of which were carefully 
wrapped up in kids,” 

“ Why, Beatrice ! ” 

Why, Chauncey ! ” 

What does this mean, Beatrice.'^” exclaimed 
Chauncey, who recovered his speech first. ‘‘ How 
sweet and loving of you to have come to me — ^to 

my room ! Oh, Beatrice, I shall never forget ” 

I come to your room ? Why, what do you 
mean, sir? Your room, sir? How dare you, sir? 
It is you who came to my room, sir.” Then sud- 
denly bursting into tears : Oh, Chauncey, I would 
never have thought you could do anything so un- 
principled; besides, besides — ” and she began to 


134 The Victim's Triumph 

sob hysterically. Oh, it’s awful ! Somebody has 
been murdered here. It’s a woman, I am sure. 
There is her corset and the top of her head ! ” 

« Why, Beatrice ; listen to me, darling,” said the 
strange being between the portieres with a wild, 
frantic look in his eyes. You are wrong; you 
wrong me altogether ; this is my room.” 

It’s mine ! ” she hotly interrupted him. Don’t 
try to smooth over your villainy. There’s no use. 
You just wanted to ruin my reputation, that’s all. 
Oh, my, what shall I do.f^ What will people think 
of me.^ I shall never be able to look anybody in 
the face again,” and she again burst into tears. 
Just then there was a loud knock upon the door, 
and a voice from the outside asked : Hello in there ! 
What’s the matter.? Did any one holler murder.? ” 
Oh, heavens, Chauncey,” entreatingly gesticu- 
lated Beatrice, save my name, my reputation ! 
Please do, I implore you! Don’t let them know 
I’m in here ! ” And she fell upon her knees. 

Never fear,” whispered Chauncey. Then he 
said aloud: ‘‘No, there is nothing the matter in 
here. Why should any one holler murder.? You 


The Victim'' s Triumph 135 

must be drunk out there. And I want you to 
understand that you can’t wake me up this time 
of the night with your pipe dream. I shall make 
a complaint to the ofBce to-morrow.” 

It’s beggin’ yer pardon, sor,” came back in a 
rich Irish brogue. Sure I taught I heard some 
one calling murder, sor; and I wanted to find the 
victom, sor. Oi am only the porter, sor, and it was 
my duty, sor. Excuse me, sor. Good-night, sor.” 

“ Oh, go to Halifax, sir ! ” replied Chauncey, 
making frantic faces at Beatrice to keep quiet. 

When the porter had gone, Beatrice, now some- 
what calmer, entreatingly asked: Now, Chaun- 
cey, do tell me how all this happened. It’s too 
awful to think of.” 

But, Beatrice, why did you come to my room.^ 
If you explain that to me, then I might know.” 

“ Why, this is not your room. It is mine.” 

“ Beatrice, what is the use in trying to smooth 
it all over.?^ Tell me the truth; I will love you just 
as much.” 

Oh, Chauncey, have you no respect for me .? 
Why do you insult me thus.?^ This is my room. 


136 The Victim's Triumph 

I came here immediately after supper. You can 
ask the hotel clerk right now, if you wish.” 

Oh, I couldn’t go to him, if I wanted to. Not 
for a million.” 

Well, but, Chauncey, when I got my key he 
said, ‘ Room number five, second floor, miss.’ ” 

Strange, he said the same to me.” 

But, Chauncey, for heaven’s sake tell me about 
this,” and she kicked the human scalp lying upon 
the floor ; and picking up the corset she threw it on 
top of the wig, and pointing to both exclaimed: 

Chauncey, you have basely deceived me ! You 
have misused my confidence and love to further 
your base and lecherous designs. You have lured 
me to this hotel and to this room, with the con- 
nivance of the hotel clerk, to ruin my reputation. 
But more than that, not satisfied with all this in- 
famy, you have lured me here to witness your de- 
baucheries; for here are the evidences of your base 
deception. There is a woman in that room, for here is 
her corset. Ah, shame on you, shame, you wretch ! ” 
As her hand absent-mindedly sought the polished 
surface and the strangely missing vegetation. 


The Victim's Triumph 137 

For God’s sake, listen to me ; you are wrong- 
ing me. It’s all a terrible mistake and inexplicable 
error by somebody. I swear it.” 

Then how can you explain the presence here in 
my room of another woman’s corset.? ” 

Oh, darling, that’s easy if you will only let me 
explain.” 

« Go on.” 

Well, Beatrice — oh, Beatrice, how can I tell 
you — how confess it.? That h-a-i-r and that c-o-r- 
s-e-t are both mine — mine, dear.” 

Hush ! How dare you tell me this .? Why 
make your infamy doubly vile.? That corset is 
not yours, for if it were I would know it.” 

Sweetheart, they are ; I swear it. And it is 
only because I love you so dearly, and feared you 
would never marry me if you knew, that I kept the 
truth from you. Forgive me, and believe me when 
I say that it was only my love for you that made 
me deceive you. Here, look and convince your- 
self,” and he gently swayed his enamelled super- 
structure back and forth. 

Beatrice gave a cry of dismay when she saw the 


138 The Victim's Triumph 

unvarnished truth and beheld the miserable, implor- 
ing look in his eyes. Her heart finally softened, 
and she could not help feeling for the unfortunate 
man. Seeing this, Chauncey took new hope, and 
continued : “ And, Beatrice, I also wear that corset 
which you thought belonged to some woman. It’s 
a man’s corset, dear, and I am not the only one on 
Fifth Avenue who wears them. There are others 
whose fine shapes the girls admire. Forgive me, won’t 
you, Beatrice. Suddenly she started. She remem- 
bered her own physical shortcomings. Thus, with 
a guilty, embarrassed look, she hesitatingly replied : 

Chauncey, there is one reason which prompts 
me to forgive you, and that is your kindness and 
nobility in overlooking my own physical imperfec- 
tions; and — and — Chauncey, dear, I now implore 
you upon my bended knees to forgive me for my 
deceptions,” and she sank upon her knees, implor- 
ingly stretching out her hands. 

« Why, Beatrice ! ” he almost shrieked with as- 
tonishment, for up to the present moment he had 
not discovered her shortcomings. W-h-y, I 
thought you a Venus and a marvel of beauty ! ” 


The Victim's Triumph 139 

Oh, Chauncej, please don’t- — dont mock me, 
for although I am false, I am faithful; and — and, 
Chauncey, if you will only forgive me, I will never 
deceive you again, and will love you all the more 
because — because — ” And she silently pointed to 
the barren waste upon his head, adding : ‘‘ Will 
you forgive me ? ” 

But, Beatrice, I don’t understand you. What 
is the meaning of these ? Do you mean to say that 
all these false things are yours — bust, rats, bustle, 
switch, corset, teeth, inflated hips?” And he 
looked around for more. 

Despite himself Chauncey could not hide the 
expression of surprise at the sight of all these 
strange feminine objects before him, but managed 
to say: 

I have promised you never to lie again, and if 
I were to tell you now that I could overlook these 
things I would tell another lie. But, Beatrice, 
when you get them all on, then I certainly will 
overlook them. I swear it ! ” And he added : I 
only hope that when I get my hair back on my 
head, and my corset on, that you will overlook them 


140 The Victim's Triumph 

also. Now is it a bargain, Beatrice? Promise me 
that we will be the same sweet lovers we have always 
been, and that the world shall never know that 
there is rubber in your hips.” 

“ And no hair upon your head. It’s a bargain, 
dear? ” And he stretched his hand through the 
curtain and placed it over her mouth. 

Beatrice took his hand and said : “ It is, Chaun- 
cey.” 

“ And now, Beatrice, I will ask, and I wish you 
to grant it. Let us marry in the morning. Let 
there be no delay. Will you?” 

Well, Chauncey, if you wish it so, I will marry 
you to-morrow ; especially in view of this occurence, 
which I believe is all the fault of that horrid hotel 
clerk, for he told me room five, second fioor. I am 
sure of it.” 

And he told me the same thing. Ah, I have 
an idea, I understand it all. When we registered 
and asked for two rooms he though it all a bluff ; 
why I cannot now explain. Any way, Beatrice, it 
won’t do to say a word to him about it, for if we 
do the cat will be out of the bag, and you know 


The Victim's Triumph 141 

this cat must stay in the bag. But, dear, I am 
awful cold and tired standing here without my 
cranial covering. Can’t I have my hair and cor- 
set.? ” 

Beatrice, half touched, half amused by this pa- 
thetic appeal, handed her sweetheart his indispen- 
sables through the curtain. Here they are, 
Chauncey ; and now, if you love me, you will dress 
and vanish ere we are discovered. I will go behind 
the screen and sit there until you are dressed and 
go upstairs to your room. If you reach there 
without any one seeing you, knock twice; if you 
are seen, knock three times upon the floor, for your 
room is directly above mine.” 

Very well, dear ; to-morrow you will be Mrs. 
Chauncey Lamont.” 

Beatrice, blushing at the mention of her future 
name, walked over to the screen, and putting it 
around herself sat down. He quickly dressed, 
laughing softly to himself, then shook his head 
through the curtain and called to his watching 
sweetheart, “ Beatrice, do you know that you 
look for all the world like the bath cabinet adver- 


142 The Victim's Triumph 

tisement, with the lady’s head sticking out of the 
screen ? ” 

I guess I do.” 

Beatrice, if this thing ever gets out we will have 
to emigrate to Europe. Why, it would cost me 
all of father’s million to square myself with the 
boys ; besides, imagine if ^ Puck ’ or ^ Judge ’ would 
ever get a hold of it! Why this joke would make 
them famous. Heavens, I can see my finish, if ever 
it does get out.” 

But, Chauncey, it mustn’t.” 

Of course it mustn’t, for if it does we are done 
for.” Directly Chauncey was dressed he came out, 
walked over to the screen, where only his sweet- 
heart’s head protruded; taking her face between 
his hands he kissed her repeatedly. “ Beatrice, 
you are a fascinating creature — unadorned — and I 
love you far better this night than ever before.” 

And so do I you, Chauncey.” 

I must go now. So good-night, and be sure 
to lock your door behind me. To-morrow we will 
wed. Good-night again, little one.” 

With these words he carefully opened the door 


The Victim's Triumph 143 

and slipped out of room number five on the second 
floor. A few moments later two soft knocks on the 
ceiling of Beatrice’s room told the listening girl 
that her -fiance had safely reached his room without 
being discovered, and that consequently her repu- 
tation was safe. “ Thank heaven! ” she fervently 
exclaimed as she once more put out the gas, slipped 
into the bed, still warm with her sweetheart’s pres- 
sure, and with a “ God bless you, Chauncey ! ” upon 
her lips, went to sleep. 

The next morning at nine o’clock Chauncey and 
Beatrice were duly married, and immediately re- 
turned home, where, after a council of war, they 
decided to confess their matrimonial plunge to papa 
Cameron, before the papers could get it. This 
they did, carefully avoiding any allusion to the 
events preceding their romantic union. General 
Cameron was ripping mad at first, for he had 
planned an elaborate wedding for his only daugh- 
ter, but when Chauncey assumed all the blame and 
humbly pleaded as sole excuse his great love for 
Beatrice and their famous Jersey sleigh ride, and 
when Beatrice put her arms about the general’s 


144 The Victim's Triumph 

neck, asking him midst kisses to forgive them, the 
old gentleman could no longer resist the child of his 
bosom, whom he adored and who had made his old 
age happy. So he freely forgave and blessed 
them. 

A week later General Cameron presented his 
daughter, Mrs. Chauncey Lamont, with a check of 
adequate proportions and the deeds to a handsome 
mansion as a wedding gift, while Chauncey’s father, 
happy to know that his somewhat gay son was 
safely married to a worthy and wealthy girl, gave 
him a snug little fortune as an independent start 
in life. Some few days later Mr. and Mrs. Lamont 
were on their honeymoon to the sunny shores of 
Italy, happy as two larks. 


CHAPTER VI 


A GLIMPSE OF PARADISE 

f T was a frosty winter evening. Like a 
luminous ball the moon had risen in cold, 
silvery splendor. The big, denuded trees 
in the park began assuming fantastic shapes as the 
fast-falling gloom enveloped them in its mantle 
of mystery, proclaiming night. The avenues 
alongside the park were deserted save by an occa- 
sional, swiftly-moving car, carrying its human 
freight toward food and rest, or by the hasty step 
of a belated shop girl hurrying home. In the lux- 
urious apartment of Countess Ivanovitch complete 
silence reigned. Ravenna had given her servants, 
except one, an evening oflF. She wanted to be un- 
disturbed, for it was the evening upon which Lord 
Brighton was to return for her answer. Dinner 
over, Ravenna, simply gowned, had sought the 
drawing-room, there to await Lord Brighton’s com- 
ing. She was in a strange, melancholic mood, re- 
10 




146 The Victim's Triumph 

dining in her favorite place upon the divan near 
the window facing the park. Her eyes were fixed 
in the distance, and there was a far away expres- 
sion in her face, showing that she was gazing with- 
out seeing, and that the solitary wintry landscape 
upon which her eyes rested left no record upon the 
film of her mind. Never before had she felt as 
she did this night. Like an endless chain the 
shadows of the past arose before her mental gaze. 
As they silently glided by, some gay and joyous, 
others gloomily hiding their faces as if in shame, 
her countenance presented a fascinating study of 
ever-changing emotions worthy of an artist’s skill. 
Ravenna was far from being composed to-night. 
All day she had been in a state of nervous restless- 
ness which, as the hour approached, became almost 
hysteria. Was it because she felt that the antici- 
pated interview meant the happiness or woe of her 
whole future life.^ Was it the spectre of that irre- 
pressible past, that would rise before her mental 
vision try as she would to keep it down ; or, stranger 
still, had Ravenna’s heart suffered a shock, and 
was a new life, new happiness struggling for su- 


The Victim's Triumph 147 

premacy within her? She was endeavoring to 
fathom her manifold sensations when her reveries 
were interrupted by a ring at the bell and the ex- 
pected caller was announced. A haunted look was 
in Lord Brighton’s eyes as he entered her presence. 
His haggard face plainly showed that the demon 
of incertitude and suspense had played havoc with 
him during the short interval since they had met. 
Evidently he had passed sleepless nights trying to 
foretell the result of this call, and looked genuinely 
miserable as he respectfully pressed his quivering 
lips to the Countess’s outstretched hand. 

“ How are you, Lord Brighton? ” 

As well as the circumstances permit me to feel, 
my dear Countess,” replied he, with a look so full 
of entreaty that Ravenna was touched despite her- 
self.” 

Lord Brighton,” she said, with a sweet smile, 
I realize the importance of this interview to us 
both,” and she blushed confusedly. 

“ Countess,” replied he, in a voice trembling with 
suppressed emotion, let me know my fate.^^ 

“ First,” interrupted Ravenna, I want you to 


148 The Victim's Triumph 

sit down there, opposite me, where I can look into 
your face,” and she gently pushed him into a 
comfortable arm-chair opposite her divan. He 
obeyed mechanically, and with an imploring look 
said: 

“ Speak to me, I pray you. Do not let me re- 
main longer in this awful suspense. It is torture.” 

Well, Lord Brighton, I have considered your 
proposal carefully and have questioned my 
heart- ” 

And.'^ ” eagerly queried he with trembling lips 
as he took Ravenna’s hand. “ And ? ” 

“ I will try to make you happy, if it is within 
my power,” and she blushed violently. 

At these words Lord Brighton jumped up, and 
falling upon his knees before Ravenna he seized 
her in his arms, while gently endeavoring to re- 
move the hands that covered her face. “ My 
God, Ravenna, do you really mean it.^ Do you 
mean to say that you will be mine — mine — mine? 
Oh, do answer, darling! Tell me that I am not 
dreaming and that this great and unexpected hap- 
piness is all reality,” and in his ecstasy he cov- 


The Victwis Triumph 149 

ered her face, her eyes, her hair with passionate 
kisses. 

Her only answer was a kiss, which she placed 
upon his forehead. Then she suddenly disengaged 
herself from his arms, and sadly dropping her head 
upon his breast burst into a flood of tears. “ Oh, 
Oliver, help me! and — and I will love you dearly 
— and honestly,” and she sobbed as though her 
heart would break. 

Lord Brighton looked up in astonishment, then 
stepping off at arm’s length he held her gently, 
so that he could fully see the quivering face of 
the beautiful girl as she endeavored to control the 
convulsive sobs that shook her frame. 

Why, what does this mean ? What does it 
mean, Ravenna? Are you in trouble? Are you 
unhappy? Is there any one whom you fear?” 
There was genuine amazement and heartfelt sym- 
pathy in his voice. His words seemed to bring 
her back to the realization of her situation, for the 
next moment she became calm, wiped the tears from 
her face and laughed — a queer, constrained laugh 
that could deceive none but a lover. Forgive me. 


150 The Victim's Triumph 

Lord Brighton. Please do ! I am hysterical, fool- 
ish, and don’t know what I am saying. How silly 
of me to mar this happy moment by my nonsense ! ” 
and noticing that he still looked at her doubtfully, 
she put her arms about his neck and kissed him. 

Won’t you forgive me, dear.'^ ” with a look of 
tender entreaty. 

If Lord Brighton still doubted, her caresses dis- 
armed him, for he gently lifted her face to his, and 
with intense pathos and tenderness replied : “ Will 
I forgive you, darling? What a question! What 
is there to forgive? But, dearest, sweetest one,” 
he added, your grief went straight to my heart ; 
and if you have any trouble, why, I beg of you to 
tell me. I will be your champion from this mo- 
ment on,” and he gently patted her lovely blonde 
hair. “ Are you sure you were merely hysterical? ” 

“ Yes, Oliver dear,” with a new caress, and seem- 
ingly just as anxious now to hide the real cause of 
her sudden outburst of grief as she had been pre- 
viously anxious to confide it to him. But what 
can a man see when he is in love? Nothing. He 
is blind, and it might well be said that he is mentally 


The Victim's Trkwiph 151 

unbalanced for the time being. However that may 
be. Lord Brighton was too passionately possessed 
by the ravishing Countess, who had just promised 
to become Lady Brighton, to longer doubt the truth 
of the excuse she had given as the cause for her 
strange emotion a while ago. He sat down upon 
the divan, drew her to him, then whispered — be- 
tween ardent kisses — all those sweet nothings into 
her ear that lack sense to all but lovers. Suddenly 
he stopped in one of his effusions and said: Ra- 
venna, you have made me unspeakably happy this 
evening, but there is still another favor I wish to 
beg of you, and I trust you will grant it.” 

“ You frighten me; what can it be? ” 

That you marry me at your earliest conven- 
ience, darling. Will you? ” 

Why, Oliver, don’t you think you are some- 
what hasty?” 

I know I am,” replied Lord Brighton, but 
there are several reasons which prompt this request. 
First, my dear, I expect to be called away at short 
notice on important business that permits of no 
delay, and which may keep me away for several 


152 The Victim's Triumph 

months. Second, because I love you madly,” and 
he pressed her to his breast, and just can’t do 
without you, darling.” 

But ” 

Yes, I know, dear, what people will say. Well, 
we don’t care what people say. Besides, I have 
got too much money for them to say anything. So 
do not let that trouble your dear blonde head, my 
own. Just open that sweet little mouth and say, 
^ Yes, Oliver, I’ll marry you to-morrow.’ I know 
you’ll keep your word.” 

The Countess’s, objections having been van- 
quished, she said with a smile : Yes, Oliver, I’ll 
marry you soon.” 

That’s a sweet girl, now,” and with that he 
fumbled in his coat pocket for something, and 
took from a tiny leather case a superb pearl ring 
of rare lustre and exquisite design, which he gently 
slipped upon her finger. There, sweetheart, and 
may our future happiness be as pure and limpid 
as this gem.” 

Oh, how lovely ! What a beautiful gem ! ” 
And she kissed him sweetly. 


The Victim's Triumph 153 

Now,” continued Lord Brighton, there are 
merely a few details to be arranged ere I go. Can 
you or will you be ready for a strictly private cere- 
mony a week from to-morrow night.? ” 

Yes, dear.” 

Very well then, darling. I will attend to all 
details — license, witnesses and all — we will simply 
have a private ceremony, and a wedding reception 
on our return from our business trip. We will 
leave in about ten days. After the ceremony we 
will remain here, where my darling feels so much 
at home, and on our return I will build the finest 
mansion on Fifth Avenue, if it costs a million, for 
I want my beautiful wife to have the best of every- 
thing. By the way, dear, does your brother know 
about our engagement, or rather of your contem- 
plated reply to my proposal? ” 

My brother ! ” she repeated, while a sudden 
pallor overspread her happy face at the mention 
of Nicholas. My brother ! Why, yes, he knew, 
and even approves of it,” saying which she hid her 
face upon his shoulders so that he might not notice 
her alarm, which was, however, an unnecessary pre- 


154 The Victim's Triumph 

caution, for Lord Brighton was in too happy a 
frame of mind to note these mysterious manifesta- 
tions. 

I am glad of that ; very glad indeed,” he said, 
kissing her. I must bid you good-night — good- 
night, and until to-morrow, darling.” 

The two took an affectionate farewell of each 
other, and Lord Brighton left. 

A week after the events related Lord Oliver 
Brighton of London, England, in strictest privacy, 
and attended by only two of his most intimate 
friends, was married to Countess Ravenna Ivano- 
vitch. Baron Nicholas, in a charming note ad- 
dressed to Lord Brighton, greatly regretted his 
inability to be present at the ceremony which made 
his dear sister Lady Brighton. 

Lord and Lady Brighton after the wedding 
gave an informal reception to a select few of their 
friends at the latter’s apartments, where the newly- 
wedded couple intended to remain for the time pre- 
ceding their departure. We will now pause and 
leave the newly wedded pair to themselves and their 
happiness in the cozy apartment for a few days. 


CHAPTER VII 


HEEBERT STANLEY 

day following Countess Ivanovltch’s 
Triage Bob Armstrong was in his well- 
appointed studio writing. The apart- 
ment contained every convenience that wealth could 
afford. On his right stood a small smoking-table. 
Upon a Persian rug at his feet lay an immense St. 
Bernard dog, with his large head resting upon his 
big paws; he was quietly sleeping, although every 
once in a while his big brown eyes would open and 
for a moment rest with watchful, loving gaze upon 
his master’s face. Bob was an odd man, quite dif- 
ferent from the average bachelor of wealth. One 
of his most marked tastes was his fondness for 
children and animals; he maintained a well-known 
kennel of blooded dogs as well as a stable full of 
fine horses at his country seat up the Hudson. The 
animal now lying at his feet was Bob’s inseparable 




156 The Victim's Triumph 

companion when in town. He had raised him from 
a small pup, which he had purchased some years 
ago on one of his trips through the Alps, from one 
of the monks at the hospice of St. Bernard, the 
well-known original breeders of these valuable 
beasts, which they trained to rescue travellers that 
had gone astray and had been lost in the deep 
snow of the mountains. This animal had almost 
human intelligence and seemingly understood all 
his master said to him. Bob made it a rule to care- 
fully note the behavior of Sport towards his 
callers, and was quite satisfied to have little to do 
with those whom Sport disliked; for it is a psycho- 
logical fact that the instinctive dislike or fear of an 
animal for a person is an infallible criterion of 
that person’s inner characteristics. Like most well- 
known men of wealth. Bob had a large correspon- 
dence, which, unlike his colleagues in gei al, who 
employ private secretaries, he preferred to attend 
to himself. At this moment he was reading his 
morning mail, which was rather voluminous. There 
were letters from friends, invitations, business pro- 
positions and begging letters. The latter from 


The Victim s Triumph 157 

people who had great ambitions and required noth- 
ing but a few paltry thousands to realize them — 
inventors who stood with one foot upon the thresh- 
old of fame and vast fortunes, requiring nothing 
but the wherewithal to put their inventions upon 
the market ; and there were impecunious actresses of 
wonderful talent seeking recognition, who had 
heard of his great generosity, and wanted only a 
few thousand to form a company to support their 
genius and make unlimited money ; there were 
others who described financial schemes that would 
be worth billions to the investors and cause Pier- 
pont Morgan, John D. Rockefeller and other ob- 
scure investors to look like the proverbial thirty 
cents. All these and other letters from unknown 
beggars and misjudged geniuses. Bob looked over 
with a smile and transferred to a large waste basket 
on the right side of his desk. He was evidently look- 
ing for a certain letter, and seemed disappointed on 
not finding it. Rapidly turning over a number of 
letters he had retained from the others for the pur- 
pose of answering them, his eyes suddenly fell upon 
a tiny envelope, the one he was seeking. “ Ah, 


158 The Victim's Triumph 

at last ! ” he exclaimed, as he opened the envelope 
with a small pearl-handled paper-cutter. The let- 
ter read : 

“ My Dear Bob: 

“ Dont forget that you are due at my house 
Sunday night at eight. I’ve got a box of new 
cigars here for you. And, Bob, I’ve got my filly 
fixed up for you to look her over; she shines like 
a mirror, and I know you’ll want her when you see 
her. Say, Bob, do you know pa got ducked again 
on his last horse He paid a big price, and now 
finds he is all looks and no speed. Oh, I told him 
a very stylish horse is never speedy. But I’ll tell 
you all about it when I see you. Be sure to be 
here. I’ll be awaiting you in my den. 

Yours as ever, 

Fanny.” 

P.S. — By the way. Bob, I wish you would order 
me one of those new Mexican silver bits they are 
talking so much about. I don’t know where to get 
them, but you probably do. Order half a dozen 


The Victim's Triumph 159 

different designs and have them sent to the house 
with the bill. Do it right away, Bob — I’ll kiss 
you for it when I see you Sunday. — F.” 

The dear girl ! ” exclaimed Bob, with a sigh, 
when he had finished the letter. If she only knew 
how much I think of her. She is so different from 
the rest. It’s really refreshing to talk to her. 
There’s nothing artificial about her. She is frank 
and truthful to the backbone, and the only girl I’ve 
met that is broad-minded and speaks ill of no one. 
She is a noble girl, with qualities that few mortals 
possess. Oh, if I only dared! I’d marry Fanny 
in a minute. But, then, it’s all nonsense. She 
likes me all right as a friend, a comrade, a brother 
— anything. But a husband.^ Ah, that’s a horse 
of a different color, and if I were silly enough to 
ask her to marry me she probably would tell me 
to go away back in the grand stand and sit down.” 
He gave a queer little laugh, followed by a deep 
sigh, and put Fanny’s letter in his breast pocket. 
Just then Sport began to growl and looked toward 
the door, and directly there was a ring. Come 


160 The Victim^ s Triumph 

in,” said Bob, and a moment later Louise, Lady 
Brighton’s maid, entered. With a respectful bow 
she stopped at the door. Good day. Monsieur 
Armstrong,” while Sport slowly circled about her 
on a sniffing expedition, and finally, having fully 
satisfied his canine mind that she could not possibly 
harm his master, he resumed his favorite spot at 
the latter’s feet, with the air of a dog disgusted 
with himself for having disturbed himself about 
so little. 

“ How do you do, Louise.^ ” politely replied Bob. 

Sit down,” and he designated a chair on the left 
of his desk. 

Sitting down, the maid continued : I bring 
Monsieur some news about Monsieur le Baron 
Nicholas.” 

Ah, is that so.^ Glad to hear it. What is it, 
Louise.?^ ” 

Well, Monsieur, Baron Nicholas was at the 
apartment all Thursday and Friday before Ma- 
dame^s wedding. He spent zee days in zee library, 
where he worked wiz zee door locked. No one 
could get in — not even Madame la Comtesse, but 


The Victim s Triumph 161 

Louise got one leetle peep through zee keyhole and 
saw him work on zee drawing which looked, tout-a- 
faity like one banknote. But, neverzeeless, it could 
have been something else.” 

Louise, you are great, great ! Anything 
else.? ” 

“ Zee night Lord Brighton was there he had zee 
long talk with zee Comtesse, and after he left le 
Baron and ze Comtesse had one terrible fuss. She 
told him to go, and he smashed all zee parlor furni- 
ture and then left, taking zee satchel containing zee 
drawings he was working on wiz him. Last night 
Madame la Comtesse and Lord Brighton were mar- 
ried.” 

Brighton and the Countess married.? ” 

‘‘Yes, Monsieur, and they had zee nice little 
supper after zee wedding with zee friends, and 
Lord Brighton got a letter from Monsieur le Baron 
stating that he was very sorry he could not be 
present at the the wedding of his dear sister.” 

“ Is that all.? ” Bob impatiently interrupted. 

“ Yes, Monsieur, 

“ Very well, Louise, you just keep right on as 
11 


162 The Victirris Triumph 

you have been doing. Keep your eyes open and 
see everything. Here is a little encouragement for 
you,” and he gave her a bill which he took from 
a wallet. And, Louise, the more you see the 
larger the encouragement. By the way, has the 
Countess anything to do with the Baron’s draw- 
ings ? ” 

Oh, no. Monsieur, she not know anyzing about 
his work, and he seem very anxious to keep it from 
Madame. 

Very well, Louise. You may go now, and re- 
port again next week.” 

Very well. Monsieur, and I zank you for your 
generosity,” and bowing profoundly Louise went 
out. 

When she had gone Bob gave a sigh of relief. 

Well, I believe I am on the right track. How- 
ever, I didn’t know that Nicholas Ivanovitch was 
an artist. But here, I’ve got to drop Fanny a 
line acknowledging her letter and telling her that 
I’ll be there, rain or shine; and tell her that I’ll 
send up the silver bits.” 

While Bob is writing to Fanny, Nicholas, after 


The Victim's Triumph 163 

his parting from Ravenna and his wrecking of the 
parlor furniture, had left the apartment, foaming 
with impotent rage. He took nothing with him 
except a small satchel containing the drawings he 
had been working on in the library. Upon reach- 
ing the street he took a car down town, got off at 
the corner of Third Street and West Broadway 
and soon disappeared in one of the dilapidated old 
buildings that still exist here and there along that 
thoroughfare. Ascending to the top floor, he drew 
a latch-key from his pocket and let himself into 
a dingy little room. The room was one of those 
which give a person accustomed to light, clean, airy 
apartments a feeling of indescribable oppression. 
The ceiling was low and yellow with age. The 
rags that answered for curtains were black with 
filth and the dust of months, perhaps of years. 
The only clean object in the whole room was a 
single bed, which in contrast to all else was spot- 
less, showing that some one accustomed to clean 
sheets had recently occupied it. This bed stood 
in the further corner. The wall about the window 
was lined with narrow, greasy shelves that con- 


164 The Victim's Triumph 

tained innumerable vials and flasks of all sizes and 
shapes, filled with chemicals that exhaled a most 
pungent and disagreeable odor. In one comer, 
near the only gas jet, stood a drawing board, and 
close by a small table, littered with colors, brushes, 
pencils and drawing utensils. With a sigh of re- 
lief Nicholas put down his grip, then carefully 
bolting the door and placing his hat over the key- 
hole, walked over to the bed, pulled it aside and 
touched a spring in the wall behind it. As he did 
so a part of the wall slid back, revealing a small 
closet, wherein he carefully deposited his hand 
satchel. Then he took from an inside pocket a roll 
of money and likewise deposited it there. This 
done, he re-shut the closet, pushed the bed back in 
place and sat down upon it. Well, I am safe, 
any way; that’s one thing off my mind; and it 
will be a long, long time before they ever find this 
little hole. After all, I’m not so badly off. Lots 
of fellows would gladly exchange with me. If only 
I had not spoiled my game with Ravenna! But 
it’s too late now. She is not a girl to ever go back 
on a decision once her mind is made up. Well, I 


The Victinis Triumph 165 

have only myself to blame, blasted idiot that I am ! 
Really, I begin to think that I am actually in love 
with her. She certainly did look divine when she 
gave me my perpetual furlough. Any way, I shall 
have to forget it and simply think about the money. 
But here, I forgot something — ^her diamonds ! Oh, 
I’ll have to get them! Guess I’ll go up there in 
a day or two. Damn ! Won’t I make her pay me 
for this.? Won’t I! Just wait. Lord Brighton, 
you’ll need all the money you have got, and more, 
too, ere I get through with you. But, first, I’ve 
got to have some sleep.” He suddenly stopped in 
the middle of his sentence and a look of alarm over- 
spread his features. Bob Armstrong! Why 
does his name continually ring into my ears.? Why* 
do I see his piercing black eyes continually upon 
me.? He’ll never remember me. Never, ’tis too 
long ago. Besides, he could never connect me with 
the man he saw up the river — ^the town with the 
musical name. If he did, my life wouldn’t be worth 
a shilling. But, pshaw! Am I getting to be a 
coward.? Nonsense! I’m going to bed.” Saying 
which he took a revolver from his pocket and placed 


166 The Victim's Triumph 

it beneath his pillow, undressed and went to bed. 
A half hour later his deep, regular breathing 
showed that he was asleep. A moment later a man 
who had been lying full length upon the floor of 
the adjoining room, with his eyes pressed close to 
a small hole in the wall, carefully got up without 
making the slightest noise and stole down stairs. 
Reaching the street, he walked up to a seedy-look- 
ing individual who was leaning against a corner 
post and said something as he passed on. The 
seedy one slightly nodded as the other boarded a 
car for up town; then he crossed the street and 
sat down in a hallway opposite the door of the 
house in which Nicholas was sleeping and began 
to smoke. 

Bob made it a rule to be punctual in all matters, 
so at the stroke of eight at the appointed day he 
was ushered in Fanny’s den. She was awfully glad 
to see him, and had Bob been just a bit less modest 
and unselfish he might have readily seen that this 
big-hearted girl, who was incapable of deception, 
could scarcely suppress the deep affection she bore 
him. 


The Victim's Triumph 167 

Hello, Bob ! ” she exclaimed when he entered, 
as she took him by the hand and pulled him over 
to an easy chair and pushed him into it. “ There, 
I fixed this place for you,” and she evidently had, 
for there was a brand new box of rare cigars at his 
right hand and some fine wine, and cocktails and 
other drinks upon a small table at his left. There 
was a little hassock, too, for his feet and a bright 
fire in the grate. Oh, Bob, I want to thank you 
for your kindness in sending me up the bits. I 
took three, and they are peaches. Look over 
there by the window,” she suddenly interrupted 
herself, pointing to the window, and when he looked 
to see what had so suddenly frightened her, she was 
at his side like a flash, kissed him twice on the fore- 
head, and was away before he realized what had 
happened. “ That’s what I promised you. Bob, 
for sending those bits.” 

He blushed furiously, but managed to say: 

Fanny, you are a dear little woman, and I 
wouldn’t take a king’s ransom for this little pres- 
ent.” 

All right. Bob. Now light a cigar,” and she 


168 The Victim's Triumph 

took one and gave it to him, struck a match and 
lit it for him. “ Put your feet on this hassock and 
go ahead with your story. I am just dying with 
curiosity,” and she sat down. 

Well,” began Bob, now very seriously, “ years 
ago, when I was a youth of fifteen or sixteen, I went 
out West and drifted into the mining districts of 
California.” 

Yes, you told me you did.” 

But I never told you that when I went West 
I took my mother and sister with me. Yes, I 
did, and I want to say that I had the dearest 
mother that a man ever had. As to my sister, 
she was a beautiful girl, and I loved her very 
dearly. 

Well, we settled in a mining town called Dry- 
town in California, and there I went to work as 
hard as I knew how, digging, prospecting and 
speculating, while mother and sister kept house 
for me. I was successful from the start, and my 
little pile kept getting bigger every day. Of 
course, we made new acquaintances, new friends, 
new associates, and, naturally, the greater my sue- 


The Victim s Triumph 169 

cess the more friends I had. Among them was a 
young fellow whose fine education, aristocratic bear- 
ing, and handsome face soon made him everybody’s 
friend. He had a way of getting around people 
that was simply irresistible. This young man’s 
name was Herbert Stanley, and though not one 
of us believed that this was his real name, he was 
Herbert Stanley to us and no questions were asked. 
This young man I introduced into my home one 
day, which I shall never forget, for that day began 
my poor dear sister’s perdition. Martha was a mere 
child, only seventeen then. From the moment she 
saw that fellow she was lost to us. She loved him 
blindly and without reason, and nothing mother 
or I could say prevailed with her. He, the scoun- 
drel, watched the beautiful girl as she helplessly 
struggled against the mad infatuation he inspired, 
and, being an adept in handling woman, he played 
the indifferent toward her, knowing full well that 
this was the surest way to deliver her unto him. 
At the same time this wolf in sheep’s clothing ate 
at our table, enjoyed our hospitality. Mother 
being busy, and aging fast, did not notice how 


170 The Victim's Triumph 

— as time wore on — sister’s beautiful red cheeks 
turned paler day by day, how her eyes lost their 
lustre, how, in short, from a healthy, happy girl 
she became silent and morose. One day I acci- 
dentally overheard a conversation between the two 
that revealed to me the terrible truth. Martha, 
poor, dear Martha, was upon her knees before the 
villain and begged him piteously to save her name 
and her honor. He, the brute in human form, 
laughed at her, called her a fool and a silly goose 
for ever trusting him; adding that she was only 
one more, and that he would marry no girl with 
an impaired reputation. At these words my poor 
sister uttered a terrible cry — a cry that will ring 
in my ears to my dying day — and fell in a swoon. 
I, though sick at the time with fever and lying 
upon the lounge in an adjoining room, seized a 
pick-axe that stood in the corner and made a jump 
for this brute ; but he was on his guard and warded 
off every blow I aimed at him, until I finally 
wounded him and had him on the floor, where I 
tried hard to brain him. Then, with a supreme 
effort, he threw me off, pulled a pistol and, aiming 


The Victim's Triumph 171 

straight at my face, fired. That I am talking to 
you to-day, Fanny, is due only to the hand of fate, 
for the bullet, which would have hit me straight 
between the eyes, glanced oflF against the blade of 
the pick-axe, which I instinctively raised, and 
struck me in the left side. He fired again, and 
this time the bullet struck me in the chest. I fell 
in a pool of blood, almost across my sister’s pros- 
trate body. He fled. In a few minutes the house 
was filled with excited miners, attracted by the 
shooting. Without any one saying a word the 
whole story was out in a moment, we were picked 
up, a doctor hurriedly came and pronounced my 
wounds dangerous, but not necessarily fatal. A 
howl for vengeance went up from the miners when 
the full truth became known. Many willing men 
searched for Herbert Stanley, but he was too wise 
to be caught; and surely, had he been, he would 
have been instantly lynched. His description was 
telegraphed all over the country, and then Dry- 
town, to the great surprise of all its inhabitants, 
learned that he had been apprehended by the New 
York authorities and recognized as a man wanted 


172 The Victim's Triumph 

for various crimes committed in that State ; among 
them forgery, which brought him a long term in 
Sing Sing — yet to be served. 

‘‘ As to my poor sister, she lay unconscious for 
days, was delirious for weeks, even months later; 
when I began to recover and was able to walk again 
we laid her away to rest in the little cemetery on 
the hillside, and I swore upon her grave that if 
fate ever gave her betrayer into my hands I would 
kill him. A year later our poor mother followed 
Martha, and I was alone. But with all my misery 
fortune had favored me, and my speculations, one 
and all, proved successful. I was getting rich — 
very rich — and finally returned East. My first 
thought was of that scoundrel. I went to the au- 
thorities and learned that he was a convict for life. 
I went to Sing Sing to assure myself that he was 
there. The prison officials permitted me to see 
him, but they must have read my resolution in my 
face, for they watched me closely. But, Fanny, as 
sure as I am sitting here, I saw Herbert Stanley 
there, and in a convict’s garb. And now, Fanny, 
comes the important point of my story, which will 


The Victim's Triumph 173 

explain to you why I have asked a great favor 
of you.” 

All right, Bob. I am waiting for you.” 

“ Well, I believe, or rather imagine, that Baron 
Nicholas Ivanovitch and Herbert Stanley are one 
and the same man ! ” 

Oh, nonsense ! You know that’s foolish even 
to think of. It can’t be. Why, the Countess, his 
sister ! Where would they get the title — the money 
— the estates in Russia — the pictures and all.^ Oh, 
Bob, that’s out of the question ! ” 

Well, I hope so, and I hope I am mistaken ; 
but if Nicholas Ivanovitch is not Herbert Stanley, 
then, by heavens, he is his ghost, for just look at, 
this,” and Bob handed Fanny the little picture he 
had so earnestly studied in the smoking-room at 
the Pennybaker ball. 

‘‘By the great Nancy Hanks ! ” exclaimed 
Fanny, after a look at the photograph, “ it’s re- 
markable, and I can’t blame you another moment 
for thinking you were dreaming when you had the 
idea. It’s too remarkable ! ” 

“ Another thing, Fanny, that strengthens my 


174 The Victim's Triumph 

suspicion is this: Where does Nicholas Ivanovitch 
get his perfect English? If this is his first trip 
to America, as he claims, then where does he get 
his knowledge of this country ? ” 

You can search me, Bobby,” put in Fanny, 
with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. 

I must know the truth, and I will know it. 
Will you help me? ” 

I will. Bob.” And as she gave him her hand, 
she added, “ What’s more, I want to tell you that 
I always disliked that man, and he knows it. But 
what do you want me to do ? ” 

Simply this. I want you to make Nicholas 
Ivanovitch believe that you are in love with him, 
and make a thorough study of him.” 

Holy smoke! I make love to that man?” 
Fanny was silent for a moment. She said at last: 

Well, but then I’ve promised you, and I’ll do it, 
and I’ll do it right, too — at least so that he’ll never 
know the difference.” 

You know, Fanny, I have had the Ivanovitch 
apartments watched by the Countess’s maid, Louise, 
and have had astonishing reports,” and Bob re- 


The Victiins Triumph 


175 


lated what Louise had told him. “ Now, I am 
going to quietly find out at Sing Sing whether 
Herbert Stanley is still there ; and if he isn’t, then 
we are indeed on the right track.” 

‘‘But, Bob, how about the Countess.'^ She is a 
beautiful woman, and I’ll bet you my new filly 
that she is all right, and will make a good wife for 
Lord Brighton. But what do you think she could 
have been to Nicliolas.^ For if he is not Baron 
Nicholas Ivanovitch, who or what was he to her 
and she to him.^ ” 

“ If my suspicions prove true, then it is easy 
enough to guess that she is only another one of his 
dupes, with the one difference that the Countess is 
a strong, forceful woman and Martha, poor 
Martha, was a mild, submissive girl.” 

“ Bob,” here broke in Fanny, “ I’ll help you 
solve the mystery providing we rule the Countess 
off the track, for Fanny Chase will never down a 
woman. Besides, I — I — like that woman, even if 
she has sinned. And if your theory is correct, and 
she has been his tool, I am still willing to bet my 
new silver bits that she never intentionally wronged 


176 The Victim's Triumph 

any one, and that she has been sinned against more 
than she has sinned. So let’s leave the poor girl 
out of this and go for him, the real villain.” 

Here’s my hand on it, Fanny. You are a dear, 
good girl with a heart of gold, and I know you’ll 
help me. But whatever we do must be done quietly, 
for Lord Brighton is my friend, and I wouldn’t 
think of besmirching his name.” 

Very well ; and I will endeavor to get that man 
interested in me, and X-ray him to a cold finish 
for your sake. Bob ; for, personally, I hate him.” 

“ And I will send a private detective to Sing 
Sing and find out if Herbert Stanley is still in the 
chain gang.” 

Say, Bob,” here interrupted Fanny, “ what’s 
the matter with us having some wine.^ ” 

He smiled upon her affectionately. You wait 
upon me yourself.^ ” he asked. I am served like 
a king.” She had waited upon a great many peo- 
ple, but none of them had ever told her that. The 
observation added a lightness to her voice. 

“ Certainly,” she replied, going to the cupboard, 
where she took from a drawer a musty old bottle, 


The Victim's Triumph 177 

which she placed before her friend. Do you 
know,” she said in a confidential tone, I got a 
stranglehold on pa’s keys the other day and made 
a raid upon his private vineyard in the cellar to 
the extent of this. That old bottle is said to be 
the last of the spiritual survivors from the vintage 
of the year 17 b.c., so we must drink it with 
reverence. Pa said it was for special occasions 
only. Well, this is a very special occasion, isn’t it, 
Bob.^ ” and she smiled happily. 

I should remark it was,” replied he, with a 
good-natured laugh and a nod of his head as he 
mercilessly twisted the corkscrew into the tender 
neck of the rare old bottle with the antebiblical 
history. 

“ Oh,” suddenly exclaimed Fanny, hurrying 
back to the cupboard, I almost forgot I’ve got the 
finest cake here that ever happened,” and she cut 
him an immense triangular cut out of the big round 
cake with a frosted top. “ I bribed the cook for 
this.” 

Then she got two thin wine glasses, which bore 
the engraved image of a famous jockey’s head be- 


12 


178 The Victim's Triumph 

tween two crossed whips. After carefully wiping 
them with a napkin she placed them upon the table. 
While Bob filled them she helped herself to a piece 
of cake that completely filled her little fist, and bit 
in it with the vengeance of a cake-struck school- 
girl. With a smile and a mouthful of cake she 
said, This is Bohemianism. Isn’t it, Bob.^ ” 

It is happiness, Fanny ! ” he replied, as he 
handed her a glass of wine. 

As they touched glasses she said : “ Here’s to the 
success of the Ivanovitch-Stanley handicap, and 
may the best horse win ! ” 

And here’s to the sweetest girl that ever made 
a raid on her pa’s wine-cellar.” 

Bob sat there with his glass in one hand and a 
liuge morsel of cake in the other — eating, drinking, 
laughing, talking. I am famished,” he said. I 
am never tired, Fanny, but always hungry.” 

Oh, Bob,” here interrupted Fanny, before I 
forget it I want to ask you a very s-e-r-i-o-u-s 
question. I’ve got a girl friend who’s got a friend 
whose cousin loves a man a few years older than 
herself and knows he loves her, but hasn’t got the 


The Victim's Triumph 179 

nerve to pop the question to her, although the hap- 
piness of both depends upon it. He is either too 
bashful or too modest. I told her to tell her friend’s 
friend’s cousin to advise him to take some of the 
nerve food they advertise, but she didn’t want to 
believe me. Now what would you advise the poor 
girl to do ? ” 

Bob turned red like a schoolboy that’s being 
scolded, for Fanny’s question was so ludicrously 
similar to his own case that it went straight home. 
Yet he managed to reply: Why — I — I — really 
don’t know what to say. I — I ” 

Look here. Bob,” suddenly broke in Fanny 
with an arch smile, “ I want you to think that 
question over, and tell me next time we meet what 
you would advise the girl to do. Meanwhile I 
will call on Lady Brighton and try and get ac- 
quainted with her brother, if he is still there.” 
When they had chatted a while longer. Bob 
said : I’ll have to be going now, Fanny. Good- 
night.” 

Good-night, Bobby.” 

By the way. I’ll call for you next Sunday and 


180 The Victim's Triumph 

take you for a drive on the Speedway with my new 
high steppers.” 

All right. What time.^^” 

Oh, about two,” 

“ Very well, I’ll be ready, for I’m anxious to 
know what they look like. And by that time we 
will be able to compare dates in our detective work 
and examine the contents of our drag net. Eh.?^ 
Good-night.” 

He hesitated a moment, as if he wanted to say 
something more, then blushed furiously and rushed 
out. 

When he had gone she stood a moment as if in 
a dream, then smilingly shook her head with a vi- 
bration of the voice. Poor Bob ! I really believe 
he meant to kiss me. Why didn’t he.^ What a 
dear he is ! And I love him just as surely as my 
filly’s got white feet. Any way. I’ll be Mrs. Bob 
Armstrong or be an old maid, and get a cat, or a 
poodle, or a canary bird.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


A VICTIM OF another’s CRIMES 

COUPLE of days after the foregoing, 
and while Lord and Lady Brighton 
were out calling, Nicholas Ivanovitch 
suddenly reappeared at their apartment, and find- 
ing Louise there he sent her out to purchase some 
paper and stamps for him — an errand which would 
occupy her some little time. 

Louise, not knowing as yet how matters stood, 
could not refuse obedience to the man who had 
originally engaged her, although she would have 
gladly done so in order to watch his movements 
in the apartment. 

Nicholas evidently read her thoughts, or was 
suspicious, for he stood by the door and watched 
her until she had reached the street, then he went 
to the window until he saw her turn the corner of 
the street leading toward the main avenue. Then he 
bolted and latched the front door. A moment later 




182 The Victim's Triumph 

he had slipped a letter into Lady Brighton’s private 
letter-box in the drawer of her dresser, and next 
he was busy with the systematic searching of her 
apartment. In a short while he had within his 
little hand satchel all the valuables, including 
diamonds and jewelry, the Countess had left at 
home. This done he took from his inside pocket 
a letter addressed to Ravenna, unlocked the door 
and sat down in the parlor to await the girl’s re- 
turn. When he heard her come in he met her, 
took the stationery and stamps and told her to keep 
the change she had received, and handed her the 
letter for Lady Brighton. Louise, I shall be un- 
able to await my sister’s return, and therefore wrote 
this letter, explaining my visit. Give it to her on 
her return.” With these words he opened the door 
and passed out. When Louise had made sure that 
he had gone she hurried to the library and held 
the letter he had given her over the radiator. In 
a few moments the hot air had liquified the muci- 
lage which held the envelope together. Hastily 
sitting down, Louise picked up a pencil, and in a 
very short time had a shorthand copy of Nicholgis’s 


The Victim's Triumph 183 

letter to his sister; this she hid in her bosom. She 
then carefully re-sealed the envelope and placed it 
upon the dresser in Lady Brighton’s pale blue 
boudoir. Louise next hastened to her own room, 
locked her door and made a complete translation 
of the shorthand copy she had taken. This letter 
she addressed to Bob Armstrong, with a footnote 
explaining the incidents surrounding it. Throw- 
ing a shawl over her head she hurried to the corner, 
mailed the letter and was back long ere Lord and 
Lady Brighton returned. When they came in, 
Louise said: ‘‘Madame, Monsieur le Baron waz 
here while you were absent, and being unable to 
w^ait he left a letter for you, which I have laid 
upon zee dressaire of Madame, 

“ Thank you, Louise,” was all Lady Brighton 
said, as she walked to her boudoir, while her hus- 
band repaired to his own rooms. Ravenna was 
visibly annoyed as she gazed upon the familiar 
handwriting. It seemed as though she wanted to 
obliterate from her mind and heart everything per- 
taining to her former oppressor. However, she 
hastily tore open the envelope and read : 


184 The Victim's Triumph 

Ravenna : You have stated that all between us 
is over. Be it so. But I have come to the con- 
clusion that the time and trouble I’ve had and your 
stubbornness in refusing to ensnare Lord Brighton 
into helping me in my schemes, is worth a great 
deal, and constitutes a serious loss to me. I have, 
therefore, taken the precaution to collect a small 
part of the indemnity you owe me, until such time 
as you can redeem it.” Here Ravenna stopped 
reading, and with a face full of supreme disgust 
exclaimed: My jewelry! And this is the brute 

whose slave I’ve been! Has he fallen so low as to 
rob me of the few trinkets I had? Well, well!” 
Then she continued reading: It would be foolish 
for you to say anything about your loss, for it 
would injure you more than it would me. Further- 
more, I expect a large sum of money for my silence. 
A word to the wise is sufficient. 

Nicholas.” 

“ The coward ! ” exclaimed Lady Brighton, tear- 
ing the letter and throwing the pieces into the waste 
basket. Does it seem possible that a man can 


The Victim's Triumph 185 

sink so low? Oh, I don’t regret the jewelry. And 
as to the money, what do I care for money? But 
to be rid of him — oh, just to be free from the 
shameful past ! Ah, there’s the difficulty. I would 
give worlds to have never known him. Shall I con- 
fess — tell all to my husband? Lord Brighton is 
kind and good ; he loves me deeply, I’m sure. But 
what if he would scorn, despise and loathe me now 
that I love him? Good God! I can’t do it, can’t 
risk it ! It would kill me ! Rather bear the shame 
and sorrow of this dark secret than perhaps lose 
the one and only true heart left me in the wide 
world. I am so miserable, so wretched when this 
thing comes up in my mind I ” 

Just then with a violent start her soliloquy was 
Interrupted by the footsteps of Lord Brighton in 
the hall, and she hurriedly removed all traces of 
her deep emotion. At that moment he called 
to her outside of her boudoir : May I enter, 
darling? ” 

Yes, Oliver. Come in.” 

‘‘ Ah,” he exclaimed, seeing that she still had 
her hat on, “ I thought you had changed and made 


186 The Victim's Triumph 

j ourself more comfortable. You naughty little 
woman ! ” and he took Ravenna in his arms and 
kissed her passionately. Oh, my love, do you 
know that my life has but begun I have never 
known what happiness meant until you became 
mine.” 

Oliver,” replied Ravenna, with a sweet caress, 
I know you love me with all your heart, but will 
^’^ou always love me, and will nothing ever change 
your affection for me.^^” 

‘‘No, dear, there is absolutely nothing in the 
wide world that could mar our happiness. My 
love ! ” and he again kissed her. 

“ Well, supposing,” hesitatingly continued Ra- 
venna, pressing her lovely figure like a frightened 
deer against Lord Brighton, “ suppose I was a bad 
woman, a very bad woman, and not as good as you 
think I am, would you still love me.^ ” and she 
looked into his face with a world of anxiety unsuc- 
cessfully covered by a forced laugh. 

“ What nonsense, my treasure ! As if there 
could be anything bad or vile about you. Come, 
dearest, quit your teasing me, it hurts ; and simply 


The Victirris Triumph 187 

remember that I am all yours — ^heart, soul and 
body!” 

Dinner is served,” announced Louise, and Lord 
Brighton excused himself and walked to the dining- 
room, while Ravenna hastily exchanged her shop- 
ping-dress for a pretty loose dinner-gown. There 
was pain and disappointment upon her. lovely face 
— disappointment because her husband, despite his 
great love for her, had failed to answer her ques- 
tion outright, and because she instinctively feared 
that with his high sense of honor and family pride 
Lord Brighton would rather lose her for ever, 
though it would break his heart, than countenance 
anything dishonorable in her past. Though she 
was in the possession of her husband’s love Raven- 
na’s life became a veritable torture for fear that he 
might at any moment discover the truth of her 
former disgrace. The day following the one on 
which poor Lady Brighton was so terribly shocked 
by Nicholas’s infamous robbery and letter she had 
occasion to go out in the morning, while Lord 
Brighton remained at home to attend to some cor- 
respondence. It was about 11 a.m., and Louise 


188 The Victim s Triumph 

having accompanied her mistress on her shopping 
tour. Lord Brighton was alone in the library. He 
had finished his letters, and lighting a cigar was 
reclining in his arm-chair, thinking of Ravenna. 
His beautiful wife was ever uppermost in his mind, 
and if he had ever been a woman-hater at heart, he 
certainly had lost every trace of it now, for he was 
most charmingly assiduous, entertaining and oblig- 
ing toward her. And it ought to be said in his 
favor that in all probability he had been misjudged 
by his friends in so far as women were concerned. 
At this moment Lord Brighton was pondering 
what surprise he could give his wife on her return 
home. After cudgelling his brain for a few mo- 
ments, he exclaimed : “ I have it ! I’ll give her a 
check for the handsomest automobile that can be 
bought and hide it somewhere where she may find 
it.” He, therefore, wrote a check for $25,000, 
payable to the order of Lady Brighton. Care- 
fully folding it up he went to his wife’s boudoir, 
in order to find some safe place, accessible to her 
only, where he could hide it. Opening the drawer 
of her dresser, he laughed indulgently at the many 


The Victim's Triumph 189 

little things — ribbons and nick-nacks dear to a 
woman’s heart — that he saw there. But how could 
he secrete so valuable a paper among all these little 
objects — tortoise-shell combs, powders, ribbons, 
belts, hat and stickpins, purses, lucky pennies and 
so forth He was about to give up the search 
when his eyes fell upon a small plush box with a 
tiny gold lock and little gold handle. A letter- 
box ! ” he exclaimed. Well, I won’t go through 
my wife’s letters, that’s certain, but I’ll just lay 
the check upon the top, so she can’t miss it — that 
is, if the box is open. Picking it up he saw a tiny 
gold key suspended from the lock. He opened the 
box and found it filled with a bundle of letters, some 
yellow with age, others of recent vintage. He was 
about to place his check on the top of them, when 
in so doing he disarranged them, and in readjust- 
ing the package one of the letters fell upon the 
floor. In picking it up his gaze fell upon his own 
name, plainly written in a large masculine hand. 
Now, is there any one among the readers of this 
veritable tale who can blame Lord Brighton for 
wanting to know more about the person using his 


190 The Victim's Triumph 

name? Very likely not. At any rate he opened 
the folded sheet of pale blue linen paper and read. 
A moment later the letter dropped from his shak- 
ing grasp. His hand clutched frantically at his 
heart. He turned ghastly pale, and reeling back- 
ward fell upon his wife’s bed, where his fingers 
convulsively buried themselves in the spotless linen, 
while he moaned as if in awful agony. Ten min- 
utes passed, twenty, half an hour had elapsed, and 
still Lord Brighton moaned. Then suddenly he 
became quiet. Slowly, painfully he rose. His face 
was livid and scarcely recognizable. There was in 
his demeanor that awful calm which presages the 
storm and portrays the most dire of human emo- 
tions. Mechanically, automaton-like, he picked up 
the letter and placed it in his pocket. Then care- 
fully readjusting the other letters he relocked the 
box, returned it to the drawer and closed the latter. 
The check he tore into small bits, threw them into 
the fire and watched them till consumed. He slowly 
walked toward the door. Then he turned and 
looked back as if to take a last farewell of a hap- 
piness there consummated, but now forever dead. 


The Victim s Triumph 191 

Then he walked into the drawing-room and sat 
down on the divan, where he could watch the deso- 
late scene in the park across the avenue. Not a 
muscle in his face moved. His eyes and face were 
haggard. In the short half hour Lord Brighton 
seemed to have aged twenty years. The deep 
melancholy that had settled about his mouth alone 
proclaimed the agony in his heart as he sat there, 
sphynx-like, awaiting Lady Brighton’s return. 
While in the person of this tortured and now prac- 
tically heart-broken man one of life’s real dramas 
is nearing its consummation, let the reader subject 
the letter in his inside pocket to a mental X-ray 
and see what terrible revelation it contained. The 
text of the letter was as follows : 

My Sweetheart : Despite my desire to be with 
you and in your arms, I have been quite unable to 
call upon you since the ball, where you made such 
a phenomenal hit with the baldheads, and especially 
with his lordship, who will prove the biggest fish 
that ever swallowed bait — hook and all ! Say, he’s 
worth millions, and we need millions! I admire 


192 The Victim's Triumph 

you, pet, for the clever way in which you managed 
the old man. And when you made love to him it 
was so funny that I stuffed my silk handkerchief 
in my mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. 
At any rate that Englishman will be the biggest 
catch we ever made. He will be an easy mark for 
your rare skill. Now, darling, keep right on, and 
we will soon have money to incinerate. Many kisses 
from your ardent 

Nicholas.” 

Lord Brighton had been waiting motionless in 
the same position for nearly two hours when he 
heard the key turn in the lock outside and the 
voices of his wife and maid. A moment later she 
entered. Lady Brighton looked beautiful in her 
well-fitting shopping gown. There was the flush 
of excitement and good health upon her cheeks. 
She had made many purchases, and consequently 
felt happy. When she saw Lord Brighton she 
dropped the parcels she carried upon a chair, 
rushed over to him and kissed him affectionately. 

Oh, have you been waiting long, dear ^ I am so 


The Victirri's Triumph 193 

sorry.” Lord Brighton never moved. He simply 
waved her aside with his left hand while with his 
right he pulled out his fine silk handkerchief and 
wiped the place where she had pressed her lips. 
Then he got up and said in a tone so cold and icy 
that she shrank back in terror: “You will be good 
enough to await me here.” With cnese words he 
threw the handkerchief with which he had wiped 
her kiss from his forehead into the fire and left the 
room. He went to the dining-room, found Louise, 
who was unpacking some of the many things that 
the chauffeur had just sent up in the elevator, and 
said : “ Louise, I desire you to remain in this room 
until I will let you out in about an hour. Do you 
understand.^ ” 

“ Yes, sir,” tremblingly replied the maid, read- 
ing in Lord Brighton’s ashen face that there was 
something amiss. Moreover, she knew already that 
he was a stem disciplinarian that wouldn’t bear the 
slightest contradiction. 

Turning, Lord Brighton walked out of the room 
and locked the door behind him. When he had 
gone Louise, who, hypocrite though she was, loved 
13 


194 The Victim's Triumph 

her mistress, fell upon her knees and prayed: 

Holy Father, protect the poor woman in there ! ” 
then she trembling sat down to await developments. 
Meanwhile Lady Brighton, not knowing the cause 
of her husband’s remarkable behavior, had become 
almost hysterical from fear and anguish. Her face 
was deathly pale. She felt an awful crisis was at 
hand. In her eyes there was the expression of 
helplessness, together with the mute terror of the 
deer at bay. Lord Brighton reappeared. He ad- 
vanced toward his wife, and pointing to a chair for 
her, said in an icy tone, “ Madame, sit down.” 

Mechanically she obeyed, unable to move or utter 
one syllable. Her husband now took a seat oppo- 
site her and continued : Countess Ivanovitch, will 
you be good enough to inform me who you are.^ 
Wait, do not disturb me, please,” he added harshly. 

Hear me until I have finished, then you may 
speak. When I ask you to kindly inform me as 
to who you are, I mean that you should now drop 
all prevarications and simply make a clean breast 
of the entire game, which you and your — ah — ah — 
1-o-v-e-r have been practising upon me. I wish to 


The Victim's Triumph 195 

know all — all ! ” Lord Brighton spoke slowly and 
distinctly, carefully articulating each word. 

Why, why, Oliver, why, what do you mean ? ” 
she stammered, pale to her parched lips. 

I mean to say. Countess Ivanovitch — if this 
should accidentally be your name — that you are an 
adventuress and a woman with a past! I likewise 
want to say to you that when I married you I did 
so in the belief that you were a good, honorable 
woman, and that you would in time learn to love 
me. Since then I have found that in marrying 
you I have married simply a creature without honor, 
self-respect, or virtue — in fact, the companion and 
mistress of a criminal and blackmailer, for whom 
you have acted as a medium. You and your lover 
have deliberately planned to rob me of my wealth, 
blackmail me in the capacity of your husband. 
You have succeeded in one point — namely, in be- 
coming my wife. My personal pride, and the 
honor of an Englishman’s name, social position and 
family cannot in my case be dragged through the 
mire and then aired in the divorce courts. Thus 
I shall not endeavor to force you into a separation 


196 The Victim's Triumph 

which necessarily would cause a scandal. No, I 
shall pursue an entirely different plan, madame. 
You must disappear. Disappear for ever! You 
understand me, do you not.? For you will readily 
see that I could not afford to come in contact with 
a demi-mondaine who ensnared me into an igno- 
minious marriage, which I could easily have dis- 
solved by merely proving your character, and 
whose very presence would be a reminder of a 
foul and despicable intrigue of which I am the 
victim.” 

While Lord Brighton spoke Ravenna’s head 
gradually sank upon her breast. Her agony was 
too great to bear, but at the word demi-mon- 
daine ” she suddenly sprang to her feet with heav- 
ing bosom and flaming eyes — ^blue-black with the 
intensity of indignation. So deeply aroused was 
she that a red mist seemed to fill the room ; her nails 
convulsively tore at the tender flesh of her hands. 
Drawing herself up to her full height she said, with 
an air of queenly disdain: 

“ You lie ! Before God, you lie, and if I were 
a man I would kill you 1 ” 


The Victim's Triumph 197 

Lord Brighton merely shrugged his shoulders 
and laughed. “ Don’t act, madame ; please don’t. 
Or do you think your dramatic poses impress me.^ 
Why, madame, a woman who has portrayed love as 
you have portrayed it to me — and God knows how 
many others — is bound to be a great actress, and 
can portray anger as well. As to your threats, I 
could not possibly fear a creature of your char- 
acter.” 

Lord Brighton, are you mad.^ Do you realize 
what you are saying ? ” here interrupted Ravenna, 
exasperated by his awful sarcasm. 

“Do I know what I am saying Perhaps so. 
But in case that you — my beautiful Countess — 
might possibly entertain doubts upon that point I 
will prove it to you,” and he handed her Nicholas’s 
letter. “ It would have been a good idea to hide 
your charming correspondence better. Don’t you 
think so ? Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

“Hide it? What do you mean.?^” gasped Ra- 
venna. A cold shiver ran between her shoulders 
when she took the extended letter and hastily 
glanced at it. “ Why, this is not mine. It was 


198 The Victim's Triumph 

never received by me. It was not among my 
things.” 

“ You are foolish to attempt denial, for the let- 
ter was among your private correspondence.” 

That letter among my private correspondence 
Never!” 

That is where I found it, my charming Count- 
ess. You should have been more careful when you 
destroyed the others.” 

It’s false 1 I never saw that letter before I I 
swear it ! ” 

Oh ! What is the use of prolonging this scene, 
inadame ? You have stooped too low for me to waste 
further time and energy upon you. You are too 
hardened a criminal to confess even when caught. 
But your arts are futile. Here! I tell you what 
you can do. It’s the only way. Take some speedy 
acting drug and do the world and me a service by 
taking yourself off — and we will call the incident 
closed. As to your lover, alias brother — why, I 
may kill him on sight ! ” and Lord Brighton rose 
to go with a hoarse, terribly discordant laugh. 

By this time Ravenna was completely beside her- 


The Victim s Triumph 199 

self. She looked a veritable Medea. As she 
glided toward Lord Brighton, her eyes flashed like 
live sapphires. 

Sit down, sir ! ” she commanded in a vibrat- 
ing voice. How dare you suggest suicide to 
me.^ You ask me to take myself off? Why, you 
are insane. Who are you, pray ? ” And step- 
ping back at arm’s length she contemplated him 
with a look of scathing scorn. “ I — ^kill myself 
— just to please your lordship’s mood.^ Ah, I 
think not! And what is more, let me say to you, 
Lord Oliver Brighton of London, England, that 
the very worst woman in the world is infinitely 
better and purer than a thousand of your kind ; for 
when we come down to real facts, what are you men 
but selfish brutes that have so far degenerated that 
chastity and purity in your sex is looked upon as 
a vice, a paltry thing to be ridiculed and laughed 
at.? Yet these very qualities of godlike perfection 
yon seek in the woman of your choice, not because 
you admire or enjoy them. Oh, no! But only 
because in your vanity and self-conceit you desire 
to own them, and because this same conceit would 


200 The Victim's Triumph 

suffer if the object of your fancies should have been 
unfortunate enough to have the smallest blemish 
upon her escutcheon, her character, her morality 
— morality ! a thing you men never possessed. 
Why do you place the woman you elect to wed 
upon a pedestal of such Inaccessible height Cer- 
tainly not because of your own exalted moral clean- 
liness, but because it hurts your vanity. If the 
woman falls short, and the idol you have fool- 
ishly worshipped from an altogether impossible 
standpoint, turns out but human and of ordinary 
clay, then you men are the poor misused martyrs, 
and nothing is too vile, too base to say about the 
victim of your insulted vanity! Still you claim 
to be gentlemen, Christians and civilized beings. 
Do you ever stop to think — you poor martyred men 
— that no woman ever saw her downfall or first 
faux-pas^ except through one of your sex as the 
original cause Do you ever realize that the un- 
fortunate women you would crush, persecute and 
condemn as impure, despicable outcasts, are such 
only because of having trusted one of your noble 
and exalted sex? Who is it that gives a woman the 


The Victim's Triumph 201 

first help down the path that leads to Hades? 
Men! Who is it that points to the unfortunate 
ones with scorn? Men! — pure men! Only one 
thing more,” continued Ravenna, laying stress upon 
it as a wholesome means of enforcing Lord Brigh- 
ton’s attention. As to my confessing ! I have 
— never wronged you — ^hence, I have nothing to 
confess. Unwillingly and innocently I have been 
the tool of others, yet I have never deceived you, 
and my intentions toward you were pure and hon- 
orable. You claimed to love me — yet you do not 
even accord me the common decency due me, and 
prefer to place faith in a miserable piece of paper, 
a letter — the work of a blackmailer, a scoundrel ! ” 
Oh, what is the use of prolonging this scene, 
madame ? ” he sneeringly interrupted her. 

“ There is no use ! As to the letter. Lord Brigh- 
ton, you may keep it as a memento of the infamy 
of one of your own sex.” With queenly bearing, 
her head slightly thrown back, she walked to the 
door, opened it and said, And now. Lord Brigh- 
ton, permit me to facilitate your exit.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE HORSEY GIRL ” 

FTER having been locked in the dining- 
room by Lord Brighton, as related in 
the last chapter, Louise had managed to 
reach the front of the apartment by means of the 
fire-escape and her latchkey to the front door. 
Thus she had heard everything, and immediately 
after Lord Brighton’s departure she found Ra- 
venna upon the drawing-room floor delirious with 
grief. She at once sent a message to Bob Arm- 
strong, asking him to send a physician with haste 
and call himself in person. When the doctor came 
he diagnosed Ravenna’s case as one of prostration 
due to nervous shock, the cause of which he failed 
to understand. He wrote a prescription for a 
sedative, gave full directions to Louise and left, 
promising to return the next day. Bob came and 
had a long conversation with Louise, who told him 
all. He was deeply touched by the sufferings of 



The Victim's Triumph 203 

Ravenna, who in her ravings continually spoke of 
Lord Brighton and her lost happiness. Bob was 
a man of action, hence the first thing he did upon 
leaving the Countess’s apartments was to find out 
whither Lord Brighton had gone. He learned that 
that nobleman had left orders to have his mail 
transferred to a prominent uptown hotel, where- 
upon Bob immediately went to Fanny, to whom he 
told all he had learned. 

The gin-drinking Englishman ! ” exclaimed 
she when he had finished. “ He ought to be 
ashamed of himself to treat her in such a shameful 
manner, no matter what she has done. My opin- 
ion is that she is a whole lot too good for him.” 
With these words she pushed an electric button 
and summoned the butler, whom she ordered to 
have her filly saddled and at the door inside of fif- 
teen minutes. 

“Where are you going, Fanny asked Bob 
with some surprise. 

“ Why, to the Countess Ivanovitch, of course,” 
she replied. “ She needs a friend right now, for 
she is all alone except for that little maid, and I 


204 The Victim's Triumph 

am her friend, and I don’t care who knows it. So 
I am going up there, that’s all. Say, Bob, you 
know that maid is a right good sort, for she shows 
a lot of real sympathy for poor Lady Brighton in 
her trouble, and you know that’s rare in maids. 
But what about Nicholas? Do we want him to 
leave us at the post and get away ? ” 

He can’t,” replied Bob earnestly. He’s 
being shadowed day and night, and I am merely 
awaiting a wire from my detective in Sing Sing 
to nab him,” and Bob told Fanny how he had en- 
gaged the Pinkertons on the case, and how Nicho- 
las’s entire career here and abroad had been sub- 
jected to a most searching investigation, a full 
report of which he was to receive that night. 
Whereupon Bob, after promising to see Fanny that 
night at Lady Brighton’s, returned home, while 
she mounted her filly, and a half hour later was at 
Ravenna’s apartment. She found her prostrated 
with grief, shaken by dry convulsive sobs. The 
smallest details of this wretched chain of events 
projected themselves before Ravenna as she watched 
the miniature of Lord Brighton upon her dresser. 


The Victim's Triumph 205 

Fanny laid her hands gently on her. She shook 
them off with as little difficulty as if they had been 
a feather, such was her excitement. 

Louise was bathing her forehead with ice- water. 
Fanny was deeply touched at this display of sym- 
pathy and compassion on the part of a mere hire- 
ling. 

Louise,” she said, I came to take charge of 
my friend’s trouble, and I want you to go and take 
a rest. You don’t look any too well yourself. 
Take this little token from me with the assurance 
that there is always a position open for you at my 
father’s house should you need one. You are about 
the only woman I’ve seen since Nancy Hanks 
who would help another woman in distress,” and 
she handed the astonished girl a twenty-dollar 
bill. 

Louise, although speechless with amazement at 
this unexpected generosity from a comparative 
stranger, managed to stammer her thanks as she 
took the money with an obeisance. 

Now go and take a good sleep, Louise. I’ll 
attend to everything until you return, but be sure 


206 The Victim's Triumph 

to be back at six o’clock to-night, as I shall have 
an important call to make at that time.” 

Certainement, mademoiselle replied the girl 
as she left. 

When she had gone Fanny took off her hat, rolled 
up her sleeves and began bathing Ravenna’s head 
with ice-water. The poor woman, whose tortured 
mind had temporarily given way under the many 
blows that had befallen her within the last few 
days, was now tossing feverishly upon her pillow, 
sometimes crying bitterly, sometimes laughing hys- 
terically. The name of Lord Brighton, Nicholas, 
the words honor, infamy, deception, all were jum- 
bled together in incoherent, hallucinatory sentences. 
Again she would lie perfectly quiet for a few mo- 
ments, with a sweet, angelic smile upon her beau- 
tiful face. The next she would say, with a sadness 
that was intensely pathetic : 

“ Oh, don’t cast me from you, Oliver ! I love 
you ! My heart is hungry for your affection, your 
love, your kindness. I am not a bad woman! I 
want to forget and be happy. Oh, do not leave 
me! ” 


The Victim's Triumph 207 

Fanny sat motionless during these moments of 
hysterical grief. Her whole heart seemed to go out 
to this unfortunate woman, so young, so charming 
and yet so unhappy. Putting her arms about 
the Countess’s neck, she kissed her repeatedly and 
said: 

Don’t fear, dear. I’ll attend to your case, and 
if I don’t thaw that English icicle out my name 
isn’t Fanny Chase. Come, lay your head down 
upon my arm, dear, while I soothe you,” saying 
which Fanny gently laid the Countess’s head upon 
her left arm, and began tenderly stroking her 
cheeks and hair with her right. ’Tis said that the 
deeper human emotions and the contact of those 
thoroughly in sympathy with our sorrows produce 
marvels, and it surely seemed so in this case, for 
under the tender caresses of this sweet woman a 
wonderful quiet came over Lady Brighton. Her 
face, drawn with the mental agony she had labored 
under, relaxed, and for a moment a peaceful smile 
illuminated her features as she said, My heart is 
so sad,” and with half-closed eyes she buried her 
face upon Fanny’s bosom, while convulsive sobs 


208 The Victim's Triumph 

shook her frame. Fanny knew that she was slowly 
but surely recovering her mental equilibrium, and 
she redoubled her efforts. All at once Lady Brigh- 
ton gave a deep sigh, and started, as If suddenly 
awakened out of a deep slumber, and sat up ex- 
claiming, Where am I ? ” 

You are at home, dear, with friends,” gently 
replied Fanny, as she kissed the unhappy woman. 

You have been ill, but you are getting well; just 
lie down and rest.” 

Ah, yes ! I remember you, Fanny. You were 
at the Pennybaker Ball.” Then her face softened. 
“ It is so sweet of you to come to me when I haven’t 
a friend on earth left. God knows we all have 
need of friends ! Every one is gone now. I am all 
alone ! I feel so alone in this great, wide world.” 

Don’t worry, dear,” sweetly and assuringly 
answered Fanny. You will be happy yet, for 
this dark cloud will surely pass. Bob Armstrong 
and I are your friends — your real friends — and we 
are going to free you forever from the brute who 
has marred your life, blasted your happiness and 
endeavored to ruin your future. Lord Oliver, too. 


The Victim s Triumph 209 

will come back to you, penitent for having doubted 
your loyalty and ready to forget and forgive.” 

I fear not,” whispered Lady Brighton almost 
inaudibly with a sad shake of her head. 

Why not.? ” 

Because our paths no longer meet.” 

“ Oh, no ; don’t say that, Ravenna.” 

Fanny, my life has been made for me.” 

My home is open to you.” 

That is just like you, but society, your world, 
has no — place for me.” 

No one need know of that unfortunate mesal- 
liance.’*^ 

“ It is kind of you to call it by that name, but 
you cannot hide its real character with the broadest 
mantle of charity at your command. Curses al- 
ways come home to roost ; and now, to-morrow will 
come and the world will know.” 

The real facts in the case, dear, need never be 
known.” 

That’s true, but I have been known as his 
sister, he who, reports now say, is an ex-convict 
and criminal of the worst type.” 

14 


210 The Victim's Triumph 

I regret to say, Ravenna, that we all know 
that, but it isn’t your fault.” 

Oh, no ; but the world at large is not like you. 
Oh, I am very well known, no doubt — in a way. 
You couldn’t hide me unless you put me in a casket ; 
there alone I should soon be forgotten.” 

Ravenna, dear, I am your friend, and socially 
I can and will see you to the post ! ” 

‘^No, dear, in your heart you cannot forgive me.” 
“ I have never blamed you.” 

God bless you, Fanny! you are a noble girl; 
but it is best that you leave me and forget me, as 
others have done.” 

Never; it is my duty to help you in your 
trouble.” 

You can’t help me. You are honest and 
earnest, I know, but you are innocent of the por- 
tent of this question.” 

“ I am going to try and set it straight. 

Your effort shows the nobility of your mind, 
but you are in the minority.” 

Don’t forget the fable of the lion and the 
mouse, Ravenna.” 


The Victim's Triumph 211 

“ I don’t, and I am sorry to confess that, like 
so many old fables, this one is faulty, and does not 
apply. Look here, I have committed the one crime 
of a woman’s life — the one for which society has no 
absolution.” 

It must, and it shall absolve ; it is never too 
late to mend.” 

That’s all right and true, too, for men, but 
for our sex no; the gate is shut. There is no 
workshop built by modern Christian civilization 
that will repair a woman’s shattered character save 
a tinkering one.” 

Oh, dear Ravenna, what do you mean ? ” 

This — no matter what the temptation may have 
been, or how sincerely she may have repented, or 
how free her conscience may be from wilful wrong- 
doing, the woman who has once erred is labelled a 
damaged article.” 

“ We will defy society’s false edicts.” 

“ You can’t do it. Society is the most despotic 
of all rulers on the face of the earth. It is true, 
Fanny. The hero of a score of escapades, after 
he sees his follies, or is satiated with them, more 


212 The Victim's Triumph 

likely, is taken in hand by society’s leaders, scolded 
as a naughty boy, who has sowed his wild oats, 
they hope, and will settle down, take a wife — and be 
good ! How infamous, while the world grows 
narrower toward a woman with a blemished name. 
It narrows to obscurity, it narrows to a convent, 
sometimes to a suicide’s grave. Why, even the 
saints in their missionary work, with very few ex- 
ceptions, pull aside their skirts from the damaged 
woman for fear of contamination. Only the men 
sometimes have a kind word for her, and how they 
pat themselves on the back for it ; as if it were not 
fear of their opinion make many timid, good 
women afraid to do the same.” 

Oh, it is true, and shameful because it is 
true. 

Look here, Ravenna, you must not let such 
morbid views get the best of you. Go to sleep 
now, and remember that you have one friend who 
will see you through, even if the track is a little 
heavy, so just get rid of these ideas and take a good 
sleep. Everything will come out all right. I’ll 
promise you. With papa’s wealth and influence 


The VictiTifCs Triumph 213 

Fanny Chase will make society’s false edicts a mis- 
demeanor. There will be no two different moral 
standpoints for men and women. What is right 
for the one must be proper for the other. Thus 
instead of woman being labelled damaged, she, too, 
will be taken in hand by the highest of high so- 
ciety makers, scolded as a naughty girl who has 
sowed her wild oats, they hope, and will settle 
down, take a husband — and be good. How lovely ! 
Come, now, go to sleep,” and Fanny patted the ex- 
cited, feverish woman until she fell in a deep 
slumber, which probably saved her mind. The 
doctor who called during her sleep found her con- 
dition very satisfactory, but told Fanny, who was 
sitting by Ravenna’s bed, that she would probably 
be ailing for a long time unless something could be 
done to overcome the terrible grief caused by the 
nervous shock she had suffered. Fanny, who was 
a fine judge of human nature, understood the kind 
eld man of science, and said : I know, doctor, it is 
not medicine that will cure Lady Brighton. Am I 
not right ” 

You are indeed. Miss Chase, and if you can 


214 The Victim's Triumph 

help her to regain her lost happiness then my ser- 
vices will henceforth be needless here.” 

Fanny simply gave the doctor her hand as she 
led him to the door, and said : Doctor, rest assured 
she will get well. I will cure her.” 

A little while later Louise ventured to Lady 
Brighton’s bedside, and almost simultaneously with 
her came Bob. After instructing the maid to let 
her mistress sleep under all circumstances Fanny 
met Bob in the library. 

“ Fanny,” said the latter as soon as they were 
alone, I have important news for us. Read this,” 
and he handed her a telegram. It was dated Sing 
Sing, and read : 

Mr. Bob Armstrong, New York City: Have 
identified Baron Nicholas Ivanovitch alias Herbert 
Stanley. He is convict No. 4036 of Sing Sing 
Prison, who escaped seven years ago. Have Pink- 
erton’s man arrest and hold him until I reach the 
city with former guard for complete personal 
identification. 


Sam Floyd, Detective. 


The Victim's Triumph 215 

“ Bob,” exclaimed Fanny when she had fin- 
ished, “ let’s go now and make sure of him before 
he escapes us. Have you all the letters and the 
one pieced together by Louise? ” 

I have,” replied he, trembling with excitement 
at the thought that after long years of waiting he 
had his poor sister’s murderer at his mercy. 

Come, Fanny, let us go at once,” and taking the 
girl’s arm they went down stairs where Bob’s coupe 
was waiting. 

An hour later they were at the entrance of the 
house on West Broadway where Nicholas had been 
hiding for the past few days, thinking himself per- 
fectly secure and all unconscious of the fact that he 
was surrounded by Pinkerton’s detectives, who 
watched his every movement. Bob signalled to one 
of the men on watch near the door, and after order- 
ing him to gather his men together for the arrest, 
had the coupe driven around the corner where it 
would attract less attention. This done, he asked 
Fanny to remain in the vehicle while he would go 
up and help the officers arrest Nicholas, but to his 
surprise Fanny refused. 


216 The Victim's Triumph 

“ Not on your merry-go-round, Bob Arm- 
strong. No, sir, I saw the start of this race, and 
I am going to see the finish; besides,” she added, 
with a loving look and a low, sweet voice, I want 
to be on the firing-line if you are, for this man is 
a desperate criminal.” 

Bob was too deeply touched by her words to 
make a reply. He realized at this dangerous mo- 
ment the sincerity of the young girl’s friendship 
for him. He merely pressed her hand and kissed it. 
Then Fanny taking her riding-whip, they walked 
together around the corner, going to the hall of the 
house where Nicholas’s room was located. Four 
detectives were awaiting them there. One of these 
was stationed at the front door, another on the 
second floor, so as to prevent all escape should 
Nicholas attempt to force his way through. 
Thereupon Bob and Fanny and the other officers 
silently slipped upstairs, where they were met by 
their colleague, who had rented the room next to 
Nicholas, and had been systematically watching 
him. Placing his finger upon his lips as a signal 
for them to be silent, he informed them in a whis- 


The Victim's Triumph 217 

per that their man was sleeping soundly. He had 
tried Nicholas’s door repeatedly during the latter’s 
absence, and had found that he always locked and 
bolted his door securely at all times. They there- 
fore concluded that they would have to break it in. 
When they had settled upon this plan as being the 
most feasible, the detectives drew their revolvers; 
and while Fanny and Bob stood guard at the stair- 
case landing, the three officers put the combined 
weight of their shoulders against the door. For 
a moment the stout oak resisted their efforts, just 
long enough for Nicholas to jump up, grab his re- 
volver and face the door as it went to pieces. The 
officers jumped in simultaneously, the foremost ex- 
claiming, In the name of the law you are our 
prisoner.” He had hardly uttered these words 
when he received a terrific blow upon his pistol- 
hand, and the weapon fell to the floor. The next 
moment he was seized in a vice-like grip by the col- 
lar and dragged against the rear wall of the room 
by Nicholas, who, having instantly comprehended 
the terrible odds he was facing, had quick as a flash 
disabled the officer and made a shield of him. 


218 The Victim's Triumph 

Make one move, and I will blow your brains out ! ” 
he cried, and the approaching officer instinctively 
felt that he would not hesitate a second to carry out 
his threat. 

Surrender, or we will fire ! ” shouted the officers, 
advancing upon Nicholas. 

‘‘ Come on, you cowards ! ” mockingly replied the 
man at bay, knowing that they would not dare to 
shoot for fear of killing their colleague. At that 
instant one of the officers made a quick jump, 
thinking he would take the young desperado by 
surprise; but he had miscalculated his man, for 
Nicholas fired even before the officer could reach 
him. The bullet struck the detective in the neck, 
and he dropped almost at his foe’s feet. Infuriated 
at his friend’s defeat, the other officer ducked, and 
with a quick movement was almost upon the des- 
perado when Nicholas fired point blank in his face, 
killing him instantly. Then releasing the man he 
was holding with his left, he dealt him another 
stunning blow on the head with the butt of his re- 
volver, dropped him like a sack and made a jump 
for the door. There he was met by Bob, who pis- 


The Victim's Triumph 219 

tol in hand was just rushing in. The momentum 
of Nicholas’s onslaught as he was endeavoring to 
escape was so great that it threw Bob momentarily 
off his guard. It was merely a second ; but it was 
sufficient for Nicholas to recognize his mortal 
enemy, and with an oath he levelled his pistol at 
Bob before the latter had time to raise his weapon. 
It seemed as if Bob was doomed, and that crime 
would triumph after all. But Nicholas never fired; 
for in his eagerness to get away he had stepped 
out from the door of his room, which brought him 
directly in front of Fanny, who had stepped to one 
side when the shooting began. In a flash the girl 
saw Bob’s danger, and almost as quick as sight she 
brought the heavy, lead-filled end of her riding- 
whip down upon Nicholas’s bare head with terrific 
force just as he was about to fire. The revolver 
dropped from his hand, and for a moment he reeled 
as if intoxicated, then he staggered backward into 
the room as several officers, attracted by the shoot- 
ing, rushed up the stairs. Stunned by the blow 
from Fanny’s whip, Nicholas sank down upon the 
bed. He was a powerful man and struggled hard 


220 The Victim's Triumph 

to retain his senses. When he looked up and 
saw Bob and the officers entering the door he ut- 
tered an oath, and ripping open his vest he tore 
a small vial from an inside pocket, and before 
they could prevent him he had swallowed its con- 
tents. 

Surrender in the name of the law ! ” shouted 
the officers. 

Never! You’ll never take me alive!” de- 
fiantly replied Nicholas, who had turned ghastly 
pale. 

Quick, a doctor ! ” suddenly exclaimed Bob ; 
he has taken poison ! ” 

I’ll cheat you, after all, damn you ! ” feebly 
added Nicholas. The next moment his head fell 
back, a convulsive tremor shook his frame and he 
was dead. When the coroner came and the room 
was searched it was found that Nicholas, aside from 
his many crimes, had been a counterfeiter as well, 
and had quite successfully disposed of his product. 
Great pressure was brought to bear to keep the 
identity of the criminal out of the papers, and, 
strange to say, the effort succeeded. The inquest, 


The Victim's Triumph 221 

too, three days later, was strictly private. Dur- 
ing the course of the same the remains of the erst- 
while Baron Nicholas Ivanovitch were identified by 
a former guard from Sing Sing as being those of 
convict No. 4036, a prisoner who in some miraculous 
way had succeeded in escaping from the prison 
seven years before. 

Lady Brighton was gently infomed of Nicholas’s 
terrible fate, but though she had suffered unspeak- 
ably at the hands of him whose victim she had 
been, she was far too kind-hearted a woman and 
too good a Christian to carry resentment beyond 
the grave. The knowledge of being now really 
free from his influence greatly aided her recovery. 
But she was broken-hearted nevertheless. Like a 
drowning man clutching desperately at a floating 
spar to save his life, so this poor woman in her 
misery had frantically clutched at Lord Brighton’s 
heart when he offered it to her that memorable 
night. But the improvement in her condition was 
physical only ; mentally she seemed hopelessly 
stricken. She passed hours motionless upon her 
bed or divan, brooding over her misfortune, her 


222 


The Victim's Triumph 


sweet, pale face full of sadness and despair, lighted 
sometimes by deep, searching eyes, which oftenest 
were hidden by their long, dark lashes. 

Two weeks had passed since Nicholas had been 
buried. Every day Fanny had come to see Lady 
Brighton, endeavoring to cheer her up ; finally 
promising Ravenna to bring some of her friends. 
But though her endeavors were most kind, and 
caused the unhappy woman to cling to her with 
pathetic tenderness, she saw that nothing would 
ever restore Lady Brighton to her former self ex- 
cept her husband’s love and forgiveness. And in- 
deed to secure Lord Brighton’s return to his wife 
was Fanny’s chief object. She had merely desired 
to wait until the effects of the exciting events of 
the past two weeks had begun to disappear. Now 
Fanny made up her mind that it was time to 
bring this proud Englishman to his senses. She 
therefore obtained from Bob all letters bearing 
upon the relations between Countess Ivanovitch 
and the late Nicholas, ordered her filly, and having 
previously made an appointment with Lord Brigh- 
ton, was soon ushered into his private parlor at his 


The Victim s Triumph 223 

hotel. On this portentous occasion Fanny wore 
her characteristic outfit — ^that is, a well-fitting rid- 
ing habit, derby hat and riding boots. In her 
hand she carried the inevitable riding-whip, not the 
one, by the way, that had saved Bob’s life, for the 
latter had confiscated that the day following Nicho- 
las’s death. She had waited about ten minutes 
when Lord Brighton appeared. At the first glance 
Fanny saw that though proud and obstinate, he had 
suffered keenly during the three weeks of separa- 
tion from his bride. He looked aged and haggard, 
and deep, black circles about his eyes bespoke sleep- 
less nights and mental anguish. 

You must pardon me, Miss Chase,” said he as 
they shook hands, for letting you wait so long. 
I am usually very punctual. I was unavoidably 
detained, and had but just come in.” 

“ Oh, don’t worry about that,” politely replied 
Fanny, sparring for an opening upon the subject 
that weighed upon her heart. 

Lord Brighton,” she began with her usual 
devil-may-care air, do you know why I came 
here.?^ ” 


224 The Victim's Triumph 

No, Miss Chase, I do not know what aifords 
me the pleasure of jour visit.” 

Then let me tell you. I came here to inform 
you ere it is too late that you are committing a cold- 
blooded, premeditated, malicious murder in the 
first degree, and that you ought to be ashamed of 
yourself.” 

At these words Lord Brighton stood as if nailed 
to the floor. He looked at Fanny in blank amaze- 
ment, as though he meant to ask her where she got 
the nerve to speak to him like that, then he said. 

Miss Chase, did I understand you aright ” 

You certainly did. Lord Brighton, and I want 
to add that you are a downright villain, or you 
would not condemn on circumstantial evidence.” 

I fail to understand you. Miss Chase,” replied 
Lord Brighton, getting excited despite himself. 

You are quite an extraordinary young woman, 
I must say.” 

That is nothing. Lord Brighton, others have 
said it before you, and though I may be ex- 
traordinary, I have at least a heart, and you 
haven’t.” 


The Victim's Triumph 225 

Miss Chase, pray will you have the goodness to 
stop a moment? And may I know why you have 
come here to insult me, knowing that being a gentle- 
man I could not retaliate ? ” 

“ Oh, certainly, and what is more, you consider 
my remarks insults because they are true, for truth 
hurts, you know. Lord Brighton.” 

Will you kindly Inform me. Miss Chase, to 
whom or what you are alluding? ” 

“ With pleasure. I am alluding to Lady Brigh- 
ton, your poor wife, of course.” 

‘‘ I beg your pardon,” interrupted Lord Brigh- 
ton with a painful gesture. “ There is no Lady 
Brighton, and if you refer to the woman who has 
fraudulently caused me to marry her, then I beg to 
call your attention to the fact that it is a most 
painful subject to me, and one that I refuse to dis- 
cuss with you. That woman is unworthy of my 
name.” 

“ You are mistaken. Lord Brighton, you are un- 
worthy of hers ! ” 

Lord Brighton flushed with anger and jumped 
up. Miss Chase, be kind enough to remember 


226 T%e Victim's Triumph 

that you are in my rooms, and if you continue in 
that strain I may forget that I am a gentleman.” 

Fanny got up, and stepping close to Lord Brigh- 
ton, who towered nearly a foot above her, she placed 
her arms behind her back, looked up into his an- 
gered face, and said: 

You will have no trouble in forgetting it, for 
3"ou do not act the gentleman. Besides, I want to 
tell you. Lord Brighton, that the individual that 
could frighten me is not bom, so just let us 
drop all flowers of speech and talk like sensible 
people.” 

Miss Chase ! ” cried Lord Brighton, wounded 
and astonished. 

Oh, don’t ‘ Miss Chase ’ me in that tone. You 
mean, selfish Englishman — don’t ! The idea of try- 
ing to frighten me with your English airs. ‘ Miss 
Chase ! ’ I tell you not to ^ Miss Chase ’ me, for 
I’ll not submit to it! I never knew such a thing. 
The way in which you treated and disgraced your 
wife — it is really infamous! Now, Lord Brighton, 
if you have no sense of decency, I have. You’ll 
please to allow me to go on with my story un- 


The Victim's Triumph 227 

molested.” With this Fanny bounced across the 
room and sat down. 

Lord Brighton had never met any one like Fanny 
Chase before, nor could he quite understand her, 
but being a man of great physical courage, he 
couldn’t help admiring this brave girl, so he said 
rather gently, Very well.” 

Well, here are the facts. You have made a 
terrible mistake, and have wronged the truest little 
woman that ever lived; in consequence Ravenna is 
slowly dying at her apartments with sorrow and 
grief. She loves you with all her heart and soul. 
You will be her slayer if she dies, for you are the 
direct cause of her illness by accusing her, simply 
because of a letter you found against her. Had 
you stopped long enough and learned all that had 
transpired at the apartment since your marriage, 
all this trouble might have been avoided. Instead 
of that, you have condemned and crushed the wife 
of your bosom upon purely circumstantial evidence, 
and I don’t believe in circumstantial evidence, do 
you ? ” 

But, Miss Chase, will you tell me how I am to 


228 The Victim's Triumph 

explain the relations between Countess Ivanovitch 
and Nicholas? Can you explain why she married 
me? Can you disprove the letter you call circum- 
stantial evidence ? ” 

I can, Lord Brighton, and you are wrong, al- 
together wrong about that letter. It proves noth- 
ing. It is a base fraud, perpetrated by that cow- 
ardly criminal for the sole purpose of turning you 
against your poor wife, who was absolutely innocent 
of deceiving you.” 

My God ! ” interrupted Lord Brighton, if 
you could prove that.” 

‘‘ I can prove it, and in more ways than one. 
Here, for instance, is a letter addressed to Ravenna 
by Nicholas, wherein he chides her for refusing to 
ruin you, and revenges himself by stealing all her 
jewelry while you and she were out shopping. It 
was picked out of Lady Brighton’s waste-basket, 
and pieced together by Louise,” and she handed 
him the letter. 

When Lord Brighton had read the infamous 
epistle, which at once revealed to him the real depth 
of Nicholas’s depravity, and at the same time con- 


The Victim's Triumph 229 

vinced him of the terrible wrong he had inflicted 
upon his poor wife, big tears rolled down his face, 
and taking both of Fanny’s hands, he said in a voice 
choked with emotion, Miss Chase, I am a brute 
and a villain and all that you said, but it is not too 
late yet to remedy my error and atone for my 
wrong. Heaven may help that infamous wretch 
Nicholas! I will kill him on sight if I have to 
hang for it, and ” 

You are too late. Lord Brighton, Nicholas is 
dead.” 

‘^What.?^ Dead.^ Thank God for that! There 
is justice in heaven after all! But tell me about 
it,” and Lord Brighton in feverish haste pulled 
Fanny back into her chair, taking a seat opposite 
her; for all that had transpired since he left his 
wife’s apartment was news to him, since he had not 
left his hotel for a week, and in his grief and indig- 
nation had denied himself to all callers. Fanny 
then told him all that had occurred, and when she 
had finished Lord Brighton said, with profound 
emotion, “ Miss Chase, you are a grand little 
woman, and if you will forgive me for my narrow- 


230 The Victim" s Triumph 

mindedness and be my friend, I shall feel highly 
honored.” 

Fanny merely pressed his proffered hand, for her 
heart was too full of happiness at the thought of 
the joy she could bring to poor Lady Brighton. 
She made Lord Brighton promise, however, not to 
call upon Ravenna until the following day, when 
she would have her prepared for the momentous 
meeting. He gave Fanny his word, and personally 
saw her to her filly, holding her stirrup. When 
she rode away with a happy smile and a polite ges- 
ture of good-by. Lord Brighton slowly walked 
back to his apartments, where he locked himself in. 

What an abominable brute I am. We men do not 
know women’s hearts. They are too subtle for 
our masculine conception. We never will know 
them. And yet they say there is no nobility among 
women. My God! can I realize it I am to see 
her again!” and he folded his hands in mute 
ecstasy. What a noble little woman that Fanny 
is ; a perfect diamond in a rough shell. No wonder 
every man who knows her admires her.” That 
night Lord Brighton went to bed a happier and a 


The Victim's Triumph 231 

better man. He had met something he had not 
counted on, a woman with a heart. He thanked 
God that the world contained such a woman, who 
could break through all conventions and come to 
him as she had done. The maltreated but un- 
quenchable love for his wife again rose and flooded 
his heart, drowning out all lesser and baser con- 
siderations. He realized that life could be noth- 
ing to him henceforth without her. 


CHAPTER X 


ALIi’s WELL THAT ENDS WELL 

N leaving Lord Brighton Fanny rode 
straight over to Ravenna’s apartments. 
Her face was radiant with happiness, 
for she was fully conscious of having done a noble 
deed. She was eager to bring the sunshine and good 
news of which she was the bearer to the poor suffer- 
ing woman. Louise, on opening the door saw at 
once that Fanny was happy, almost gay, and her 
own face lighted in unison. 

Louise,” said Fanny, handing the little maid a 
bill, “ you have done your mistress a great favor, 
and the letter you so laboriously pieced together 
may bring back happiness to poor Lady Brighton. 
So you may now go and take an evening off ; go to 
the theatre or wherever you wish, and return about 
twelve or one o’clock. I will remain with your 
mistress until you come back.” 

Louise took the money and bowed profoundly 




The Victim's Triumph 233 

and beamingly. Oh, I zank you, Mademoiselle y 
for your goodness to me. I will be back by twelve 
o’clock. Good-night,” and she went. Fanny tip- 
toed into Ravenna’s room thinking her asleep. 
The room was half dark, and Ravenna did not stir. 
Carefully, noiselessly she approached the bed. To 
her surprise she found Ravenna wide awake, and 
too deeply absorbed in painful thoughts to notice 
her presence. Suddenly she clasped her white 
hands over her bosom, while large, silent tears 
slowly trickled down over her wan cheeks ; her lips 
moved : “ Ah, Oliver, why did you leave me ? Why 
did you refuse to trust me? Why did you refuse 
my hungry heart the comfort and happiness of your 
love.f^ I did not deceive you! I could not deceive 
you, for I love you. And I am so lonely, so un- 
happy ! ” and with a moan she buried her face in 
the pillows and sobbed hysterically. 

Fanny, who listened merely to satisfy herself as 
to her friend’s mental condition, now approached, 
and gently, tenderly lifted the unhappy woman’s 
head from the pillow. Ravenna,” she said, in a 
voice so full of kindness and sympathy that it 


234 The Victim's Triumph 

brought momentarily a smile to the face of the 
sufferer. “ Now, dear, put your little ear to 
my mouth, I want to tell you something awfully 
good.” 

Ravenna moved back and looked searchingly at 
her friend. There was such joy depicted upon 
Fanny’s face that the sick woman turned pale with 
the anticipation of some great emotion, the next 
moment she had put her ear to Fanny’s lips. 

Ravenna,” said Fanny, I saw some one to- 
day whom you love, and I had a very nice talk with 
the gentleman. Will you be a good girl and not 
worry any more if I tell you who he is ? ” 

Ravenna was too full of emotion to answer, but 
her eyes pleaded volumes as she again put her ear 
to her friend’s lips. ’Twas Oliver, dear,” Fanny 
whispered sweetly, and he said I should give you 
his kindest regards.” 

Do you mean that, Fanny ? ” eagerly exclaimed 
liady Brighton. 

I do, dear. Lord Brighton was very nice, and 
— and he may come to see you to-morrow if you 
will be good and not cry any more.” 


The Victim s Triumph 235 

Ravenna said not a word; but her eyes closed, 
and with a deep sigh that seemed to greatly relieve 
her overburdened heart, she buried her blonde head 
upon her friend’s bosom. Fanny understood hu- 
man nature too well to break the rapture which at 
that moment filled the poor woman’s heart, and so 
a few quiet, happy moments passed. Finally Ra- 
venna broke the silence. Fanny, dear, this is 
your work. How shall I ever repay your good- 
ness.?^ ” 

Nonsense, dear, I am not doing anything, ex- 
cept what we all should do for our fellow-creatures 
when they are in trouble. Just don’t mention it. 
I want to see you happy, dear, and if you remain 
always my true friend I shall feel amply repaid. 
Now, dear, since you know my happy secret in part 
only, I may as well tell you that your husband will 
call here to-morrow without fail, and — and won’t 
you get well now ? ” 

Oh, dear, sweet friend, happiness is aJl I ask. 
I — I feel better already.” 

Now listen to me. I want you to lie down and 
go to sleep, for you want to look your best to-mor- 


236 The Victim's Triumph 

row, do you not ? I will arrange your lovely blonde 
hair for you in the morning. So go to sleep, dear, 
and dream of happiness to come.” 

With these words Fanny kissed Ravenna ten- 
derly, and went into the library so as to give her 
the needed chance to go to sleep. When she re- 
turned a half hour later and tip-toed up to the bed, 
she was amazed at the change that had taken place 
in the face before her. Ravenna was lying upon 
her back, her long, beautiful blonde hair covering 
the pillow in graceful profusion. There was a sub- 
dued flush upon her cheeks, her lips were half 
parted, as if ready for a happy smile, her left hand 
was over her breast, as if trying to control the tu- 
multuous emotions of her heart. She had never 
looked so charming ; and Fanny, as she sat there by 
her friend’s bedside, looked the veritable angel of 
goodness she was. To look at Fann}" now it was im- 
possible to any longer cherish the erroneous belief 
so prevalent, that woman is woman’s worst enemy. 
As a matter of fact, they are not ; and in all greater 
issues of life women are indeed women’s best friends. 
For proof of this one need only look at all that has 


The Victim's Triuviph 237 

3^et been accomplished in their behalf. Is it not 
the work of woman ? 

About nine the next morning, after Ravenna had 
partaken of a light breakfast, Fanny helped ar- 
range her hair prettily, then she sent Louise down- 
town to do some shopping for her; in reality it was 
to prevent any possible third party from being 
present at the reunion of husband and wife. The 
wheels rolling through the soft snow made no sound, 
and no one heard the traveller who quietly alighted 
and tip-toed gently in. 

She must be already up,” he said to himself, 
while his heart beat at the thought of so soon clasp- 
ing his precious wife in his arms. He hesitated a 
moment in the hall, then bounded upstairs. 

Fanny let him in. When they had shaken hands, 
she said to Lord Brighton, “ Be careful with your 
wife. She is a tender-hearted woman, and loves 
you devotedly. Take her back to your heart, and 
keep her there forever, until life’s journey for you 
is ended, for she is worthy of any good man’s love. 
I will leave her to you now.” With this she pressed 
his hand and went down stairs, where she mounted 


238 The Victim's Triumph 

her faithful filly and rode home, one of the real 
heroines in life’s unseen drama. 

Lord Brighton was deeply touched by Fanny’s 
words. He gently turned the knob, and stood still 
on the threshold of his wife’s room. 

“ Come ! ” cried a sweet voice. He sprang for- 
ward. There was a cry of joyful ecstasy from 
the bed, and the next moment he was upon his knees 
at her bedside. 

“ Oliver,” she whispered, have you come at 
last.? ” 

Forgive me, darling ! ” He choked back some- 
thing that seemed to hurt his throat as he took the 
trembling woman in his arms. 

I forgave you long ago, dear,” she whispered, 
“ for I love you — oh, so dearly.” 

Sweet soul, you shall never suffer again 
through me. I swear it. Let me atone for the 
wrong I’ve done you by my devotion to you in the 
future. Let us both begin life anew.” 

For reply Ravenna simply kissed him. Then she 
said : 

Oliver, you asked me the other day to confess 


The Victim's Triumph 239 

to things I had not upon my conscience. Now 
since you are mine once more, and we are reunited 
never to part again, I will tell you the story of my 
life. Sit down by me, dear, and let me rest my 
head upon your breast — so.” 

Never mind,” tenderly replied Lord Brighton. 
“ Do not worry yourself, darling. I trust you 
fully, and was a brute for ever having doubted 
you.” 

No, Oliver, it will be best for me to relieve my 
heart. I want you to know all, besides my confes- 
sion will prevent all future complication, especially 
since the cause of all my troubles is no more, and 
by confessing I can hurt no one. But listen. My 
maiden name was Suvalof, Ravenna Suvalof — a 
name famous throughout all Russia, if not the 
world. When I was fifteen there came to our 
home a young student. Count Nicholas Ivanovitch. 
He was clever, handsome and dashing. I was fool- 
ish, inexperienced, unacquainted with my own 
heart. I was also said to be beautiful and pre- 
maturely developed. I was never submissive ; quite 
the contrary. They called me self-willed, head- 


240 The Victim's Triumph 

strong and obstinate. Yet when I was in this 
young man’s company my will was gone. Try as I 
would, his will predominated. At that time Count 
Nicholas enjoyed a good reputation. He soon 
realized the strange hypnotic power he exercised 
over me, and though I did not love him then, he 
easily persuaded me to marry him, and I would 
have done so even against my own will had he de- 
manded it. After our marriage I soon found that 
my husband was not what he seemed, and that he 
had upon his conscience many misdeeds, overlooked 
by the Russian authorities by reason of the exalted 
political and financial standing of the Ivanovitch 
family. But soon, very soon, my husband com- 
mitted some crime, the nature of which I never 
learned, and despite his family he was imprisoned, 
with a long sentence hanging over his head. I 
then wanted to return to my girlhood home, but I 
found its doors were closed to me forever. Alas! 
I went from Pontius to Pilatus to secure Nicholas’s 
release, and finally succeeded through the influence 
of the kind-hearted Czarina, with the understand- 
ing that he must leave Russia forever. We came 


The Victim's Triumph 241 

to America together, where I hoped that he, whom 
despite his many faults I had learned to love, 
would start life anew. I was bitterly disappointed, 
for once here in America, where the laws are far 
less strict than in Russia — indeed, a mere farce by 
comparison — Nicholas drifted from bad to worse; 
and though he never told me of his schemes and 
occupation, I knew that he was not leading an 
honest life. His conduct towards me, too, under- 
went a marked change, and I was forced to work 
for my own support or starve. Nicholas was gone 
months, sometimes a whole year at a time, and 
finally disappeared altogether. I searched for 
him for a while, and finally returned to Russia, 
where I was received with open arms by my family, 
who believed that Nicholas was dead. My love for 
him had gradually faded into indifference, and in 
my heart I was glad to be rid of him, when sud- 
denly about two years ago I received word that he 
had secretly returned to Russia in search of me, 
and asking would I see him once more. I went, 
despite the promise I had given my parents never 
to see him again should he ever reappear. When 
16 


242 The Victim's Triumph 

we met he seemed changed. He was dressed fault- 
lessly, his manners were excellent, his treatment of 
me gallant and he had a large amount of money. 
He begged, threatened, and finally commanded me 
to return with him to America, where, he said, a 
large fortune was awaiting him, adding that he 
had turned over a new leaf, and was earning an 
honest livelihood by speculating in stocks and 
bonds. Once more, and to my sorrow, I trusted 
him, despite my suspicions. We had no more than 
returned to America when his conduct towards me 
became altogether unbearable. He began to use 
his hypnotic influence over me to further his 
schemes, and though I now loathed and despised 
him, I was powerless in his grasp. I prayed to 
God that some one might rescue me from his strange 
influence. When his money began to dwindle 
down he ordered me, whom he had introduced into 
the best society here, to attend the Pennybaker 
Ball, and there endeavor to impress some rich man 
with a view to marriage, informing me at the same 
time that our marriage in Russia had not been a 
marriage at all, but simply a mock ceremony, and 


The Victim s Triumph 243 

that I was free to legally contract a marriage if by 
doing so I could financially assist him. I prom- 
ised, but in my heart I vowed that, should I be 
fortunate enough to meet a good and honest man, 
I would embrace the opportunity to forever sepa- 
rate from him, and be liberated from the unbear- 
able hypnotic power I was under. Then, Oliver, 
you and I met. You were kind and good to me; 
sincerity spoke from your eyes. I knew and felt 
in my heart that, were you to offer me youn name, 
I should be able and willing to maintain its honor 
and dignity, and perhaps love you. I tried to be 
honest, and told you I did not as yet love you ; but 
soon, very soon, I found that you were dear to me, 
and that I was happy when you were near me, 
and, to-day, Oliver, I do love you dearly,” and 
Ravenna nestled closely to her husband’s breast, with 
a look full of sincerity and pathos as she added: 

And, God knows, if ever a woman has tried to be 
good and fair to the man to whom she had given 
her whole and undivided heart, that woman was I.” 

Of course, little one,” Lord Brighton inter- 
rupted her, and I deserve just punishment for 


244 The Victim's Triumph 

the worry IVe inflicted upon you; but I’ll promise 
you, upon the honor of an Englishman, that you 
will never have cause again to complain of me, and, 
darling, I wonder,” as he tenderly took Ravenna 
in his arms, that I could have ever lived without 
you. My past existence seems to me like an utter 
blank.” And again he kissed her hands with a 
lover’s first ardor. 

I tried to tell you my past,” she went on, but 
couldn’t. I dreaded the consequences. Then, too, 
reason spoke and asked why was my past yours 
more than yours was mine? But tell me, dear,” 
she added with a radiant face, are you certain that 
you regret nothing? ” 

“ Regret ? ” he exclaimed. “ How can I regret 
anything when I have you ? ” 

She slipped her hand through his arm and looked 
in his eyes with uplifted face. 

And now, dear readers, let us leave them to the 
joy of their reunion. I have tried my best to set 
down on paper a true record of facts, with all their 
faults, their joys and sorrows, such as took place 
only a short time ago. 


ECCENTRICITIES OF GENIUS 

By Major J. B. Pond. 




READ WHATT IS SAID OR IT-. 


** It is distinctly one of the most in- 
teresting books of the year from any 
point of view.” — Rochester Sunday 
Herald, 

“ It is many a day since I have read 
so fascinating a book of reminiscences. 
Many a day — or perhaps I should 
have said a * night ’ — for this volume 
has given me delight during hours, 
when, according to the laws of nature, 
I should have been asleep.” — Newell 
JDwight Hillis. 

** One of the most simple, naive and 
straightforward books ever written. 
It fairly reeks with personality. . . . 
No man living has had such interest- 
ing association with so many inter- 
esting people.” — Home Journal, 

“ Adorned by many pictures, never 
before published.” — Detroit Journal, 

“ Possesses unparalleled attrac- 
tions.” — Boston Journal, 

“ Major Pond goes deep into his 
subject, furnishing pen-portraits that 
are admirably clear and graphic.” — 
The Mail and Express, 

'* The whole book, stuffed as it is 
with anecdotes and extracts from 
personal letters, is marvelously inter- 
esting.” — Boston Transcript, 


“All the world loves a teller of 
stories, and readers will surely take 
approvingly to the man who gives 
them so much of entertainiag reading 
as is found in Major Pond’s S>o pages 
of bright personal description.” — 
N, Y, Times, 

“ Shining by reflected light, its pages 
literally teem with interesting anec- 
dotes of many sorts.” — Chicago Even- 
ing Post, 

“Originality stamps the volume, 
copiously illustrated with portraits.” 
— The Boston Globe, 

“ It has a thousand charms, and a 
thousand points of interest. It is full 
of striking gems of thought, rare de- 
scriptions of men and places ; biogra- 
phical bits that delight one by theii 
variety, and the distinction of those 
alluded to. From a literary view it is 
as interesting as Disraeli’s famous 
“Cuiiosities of Literature.” — Fhilce>-^ 
delphia Item, | 

“If any more charming and inter- 
esting book has appeared this season, 
it has not come to our notice. The 
get-up is worthy of the matter of the 
book.” — Philadelphia Evening Tele^ 
graph. 


It is a handsome octavo volume, 5I x 8| inches, of 620 pages, with nearly 
100 half-tone portrait illustrations. Beautifully bound in English silk cloth, 
with gold stamp on side, gilt top, At all Bookstores. ^^3.50. 


1 


THE VOYAGE OF ITHOBAL 


SIR EDWIN ARNOLD 

Ithobal was the first African explorer we know 
about. He was a sea captain of Tyre, who rescued 
and married an African Princess, and then induced 
the King of Egypt to put him in charge of a voyage 
of exploration of the wonderful land of his wife’s 
birth. 

After a voyage of fifteen thousand miles around 
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ventures, which bring out almost every feature of 
African life and scenery. Ithobal relates the story 
of his enterprise in a discourse of seven days before 
the throne of Pharaoh, who crowns him with honors. 

Sir Henry M. Stanley, in a letter to the author, 
says of it; — “You have added greatly to the 
happiness of many of your race by the production 
of so unique a poem, so rich in the beauties of the 
sweet English language.” 

Other able critics who have read the blind poet’s 
new epic poem unite in calling it even better than 
the old favorite, The Light of Asia.” 


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DOEIS meSLET, Child and Colonist. 

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OLD JED PEODTT (A Narrative of the Penobscot;. 

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A MASTEB or FOBTUHI!, being Further Adventipes of “Captain 

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lustrated. Cloth bound. « « » « ^ • $1.50 


THE MULLIGANS. A Novel. 

By Edward Harrigan. The Nm York World says: “Mr. 
Harrigan gave to his Mulligan dramas the most distinctly 
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native stage. They were studied and displayed straight from 
die life of New York and their popularity was unbounded. 
His book is one of the most generally interesting of the new 
season’s output." 

It is a marvelously entertaining novel, possessing a been^ 
ness of wit and humor unsurpassed by any recent work* ^AU 
the characters stand out, as true to life, as natural and as 
vmd as if portrayed by Dickens, i2mo. Doth bound. Il- 
lustrated. Price, . 11.S8 


NOEMAN HOLT, a Story of the Army of the Cumberland. 

By General (Capt.) Charles King. “No more charming his- 
toric war s»tory has ever been written. It is Captain King’s 
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“From the first chapter to the last page the interest of tiic 
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Illustrated^ cloth bound. • • • • • $ 1.25 

JOHU HEilEY, (25th Thousand,) 

By Hugh McHugh. “ ‘John Henry’ has just ‘butted’ its way 
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“Every page is as catchy as a bar from a popular song. 

“The slang is as correct, original and smart as the newest 
handshake from London. 

“In the lottery of humorous books ‘John Henry’ seems to ap- 
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“All who have laughed over ‘Billy Baxter’ will heartily enjoy 
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Cloih bound. $0-75 

iHE KING OF HONEY ISLAND, (45th Thousand.) 

By Maurice Thompson, author of “Alice of Old Vincennes," 
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so that the reader, in glimpsing the battle of New Orleans, 
hears, almost, the cannon’s roar.”-— Capital. 
Illustrated, cloth bound. $l.SO 


JOHN WINSLO W. 

By Henry D. Northrop. “ ‘John Winslow’ is one of those in^ 
viting books of country life ot which the best part of ‘ Eben 
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side, an incidental and inevitable bit of human wickedness— 
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themselves as distinctive types of homespun Americans.” — 
The North American, 

“Worthy to live with ‘David Harum’ and ‘Eben Holden.*”— 
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UNDUE A LUOKT STAK, a New Book on Astrology. 

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THE WAT OF A MAN WITH A MAID. 

By Frances Gordon Fane. A clever, well-written story, full 
of love and pathos, and thrilling with dramatic crises. Each 
step of the domestic tragedy is skilfully portrayed, until the 
final climax is reached. 

“Its author has made it a powerful, telling story to read.” — 
N, Y, World, 

Cloth bound. , $1.50 

THE OEOSSEOADS OF DESTINY, a Story of Ohivalry in the Fif- 

teenth Century. 

By John P. Ritter. Author of “The Man Who Dared.” This 
is a wonderfully interesting story, and will find a welcome 
with all who love to read of deeds of chivalry. 

“It is a clean, clear and clever story of chivalry at its best, 
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A CHEQUE FOE THEEE THOUSAHD. 

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a brilliant farce from end to end. You cannot put it down 

/ until you finish it, and you will mention it many a time when 
you want to relate something novel and odd among your 
friends. Attractively bound in cloth. , , $i.oo 

A PEDIGEEE IH PAWN. 

By Arthur Henry Veysey. Author of ** A Cheque for Three 
Thousand,” which has run into its seventh edition. Original, 
bright, sparkling fun runs all through “A Pedigree in Pawn.” 
It will be talked about and laughed over more than any other 
book of the year. Illustrated with 14 character drawings. 

Cloth bound $1.25 

HATS OFF. 

By Arthur Henry Veysey. Author of “A Cheque for Three 
Thousand,” etc. A splendid story for summer reading. Are 
you tired, blue ? Read Hats Off ! Do you want a story 
for the hammock? Read Hats Off ! Do you want a story 
with “go,” with an original plot? Read Hats Off! Do you 
want to laugh? Read Hats Off! Cloth bound. $1.25 

Paper covers. .50 

THE STATEROOM OPPOSITE. 

By Arthur Henry Veysey. Author of **A Cheque for Three 
Thousand,” etc. Is a well balanced detective story. It is 
not overdrawn as such books usually are, but full of mysterious 
and vital interest. It is a departure from Mr. Veysey’s previous 
humorous style in “A Cheque for Three Thousand,” and“A 
Pedigree in Pawn,” proving him to be a remarkably versatile 
writer. Most of the events take place on shipboard. It is a 
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original characters. Cloth bound. . . . $1.25 

Paper covers. , • . .50 

OLEO THE MAGHIFIOENT ; or, The Muse of the Real. 

By Louis Zangwill. The Boston Times says : “ The story is 
drawn with a master hand and the characters stand forth in 
clear relief. It is in every way worthy of Mr. Zangwill’s 
reputation.” One of the best novels of the year. Cloth 
bound, • • . . . . .J Si. 50 


THE MAID OP BOCASSE. 

By May Halsey Miller. Author of ‘^Raoul and Iron Hand.’' 
This is a delightful fourteenth-century romance. The 
Maid of Bocasse was the orphan daughter of a rich count, 
who dwelt in the Kingdom of Navarre. A Gascon knight 
made a daring attempt to win the fair chatelaine and her 
estates, and the entire story is one of struggle, heroism, 
love, and passion. It is a romance of strength and power. 
Cloth bound, illustrated, , . . $1.50 

WIDOW MAGOOGIN. 

By John J. Jennings. The inimitable widow’s philosophy 
on the topics of the day, spoken in her own dialect, is won- 
derfully funny. As a critic, the “Irish widow” touches upon 
the foibles of fads and fashions with masterly sarcasm, and 
Mr. Jennings, in his art, has characterized her with skilful 
touches true to Nature. Cloth bound, « . ?i.25 

THE SONG OP THE SWORD, A Romance of 
1796. 

By Leo Ditrich stein. This author needs no introduction to 
the public. In this thrilling story he displays a perfect 
wealth of plots and critical situations. It is an excellent 
work, fine and subtle, with many exciting scenes. A 
spirit of chivalrous romance exudes from each chapter. 
There is, in fact, an odor of romance all about it. The 
work spent on the central figures is splendid, and the 
entire book satisfies the demand for combined entertain- 
ment and interest in a historical novel. Cloth bound, illus- 
trated, ...... $1.50 

FATHER ANTHONY. 

By Robert Buchanan. “One of the most touching and dra- 
matic stories ever written in connection with Irish life. 
It is a heart-stirring story; and it is the more attractive 
because Mr. Buchanan writes of Irish life from personal 
knowledge, and describes places and people with which, and 
with whom, he has had a long familiarity. Father John is a 
typical Irish character. Mr. Buchanan has never con- 
ceived a more finely-drawn character than Father Anthony. 
The book can be heartily commended to all classes of 
readers .” — London Weekly Snn. Ten editions have been 
sold in London. Cloth bound, . . . $1.50 


TEE DRONES MEST DIE. 

By Max Nordau. Sixth Edition. ** As purely original as if no 
other novel had ever been written. The open secret of such 
writing is that it is the result of the experience and the ob- 
servation of one of the keenest observers — a man who exag- 
gerates nothing and sets down naught in malice, but sees with 
incomparable clearness, and writes down what he sees.” — 
The Bookseller and Newsman. . , • . 2.00 

TWO ODD GIRLS. 

A charming novel, by John A. Peters. A bright, clever and 
interesting story is this, with a vein of humor underlying and 
running through it. The style of the novel is brilliant and 
will be read with pleasure and avidity by all who peruse its 
first page. Cloth bound. . . . . . 1.50 

MOTHER TRUTH’S MELODIES. 

By Mrs. E. P. Miller. A kindergarten of the most useful 
knowledge for children, 450 illustrations. Every lover of 
children and of truth will be interested in this charming book; 
every house in the land should have a copy; it will entertain 
and instruct more truly and more sensibly than any other 
book. It is made up of simple stories in verse, the jingle of 
which may be music in the children’s ears, and the pictures a 
delight to little eyes; made in a form to attract the attention 
of the smallest children, and one to readily fix in their mem- 
ory the stories told.” Cloth bound. . . . 1.50 

i 

THE TWEI^TIETH CENTURY COOK BOOK. 

By Mrs. C. F. Moritz and Adele Kahn. A modern and com- 
plete household cook book such as this is, since cooking has 
come to be a science no less than an art must find a welcome 
and become the most popular cook book of all the many now 
published. 

** It can hardly be realized that there is anything worth eating 
that its receipt cannot be found in this volume. This volume 
has been carefully compiled and contains not only the re- 
ceipts for an elaborate menu, but also the modest ones have 
been considered.” — Bookseller and Newsman. Bound in oil 
cloth, for kitchen use. . . « • • 1*5® 


THE MAN WHO DAEED. 

By John P. Ritter. Mr. Ritter has achieved a work of rare 
interest. It is a great historical picture of the time of Robes- 
pierre, in which fact and fancy are welded together in a fine 
realization of the spirit of the times. It has all the elements 
of a genuine romance, and is an unusually fascinating his- 
torical romance. Illustrated. Cloth bound, gilt top. 1.25 


THE DAY OF TEMPTATION. 

By Wm. Le Queux. This is one of this author’s best stories. 
It is thrilling and realistic, and bears out a mystery which 
carries tha reader through a labyrinth of strange experiences. 
Cloth bound. ....... 1.50 


THE STORY OP THE ROUGH RIDERS. 

By Edward Marshall. The most intensely interesting book of 
modern times. It is devoted entirely to this one famous regi- 
ment. It contains a complete roster of the regiment, and is 
profusely illustrated from photographs and drawings. Cloth 
bound. 1.50 

WATERS THAT PASS AWAY. 

By N. B. Winston. There is a deep lesson of life to be 
learned from a book like this, and in it one may study charac- 
ter, and the infallible trend of social consequences, sorrow 
ever following sin, and sin in its turn yielding to joy when 
true repentance follows after .” — Philadelphia Item. Cloth 
bound. ........ 1.25 


THE RETURN OF THE O’MAHONY. 

By Harold Frederic. To those who have read The Damna- 
tion of Theron Ware,” and ** Seth’s Brother’s Wife,” there 
will be found in this extremely delightful novel, “ The Re- 
turn of the O’Mahony,” a book that will gratify the reader 
much more than any other book of the times. Illustrated, and 
with portrait of the author. Cloth bound, deckle edge, gilt 
top. • i-SO 


APR 27 1903 


:,T.. 


4 




